Endangered Species
by Night Zephyr
Summary: Creatures' rights activist Hermione is pleased when she lands a Ministry summer internship with a famous zoolowizard. But Ron and Harry, still reeling from fifth year, suspect there may be more than creatures on the Ministry's endangered species list...
1. Causes and Effects

_Many, many thanks to my wonderful betas, __**Christina Teresa, Seakays, and sunshyndaisies.**__ This little story would have never been launched without their time, encouragement, diligence, and ever-brilliant suggestions. Ladies, you are goddesses one and all._

...And so begins a little post-canon diversion to keep the author in practice while planning the (epic-length, I fear) 'Points' sequel...

The first scene may feel just a bit familiar somehow...  


~ Chapter One ~  
Causes and Effects

The six of them watched Harry walk away determinedly toward the station entrance, his aunt, uncle and bloated cousin scurrying behind to keep up with his purposeful stride.

"I suppose that ought to do it," Moody said with a satisfied tone, obviously considering the conversation they had just had with the Dursleys. His expression showed that it had gone much as Harry's friends and protectors had wanted.

"Let's hope so," Tonks said, failing to break her gaze as she craned her neck to follow Harry's departure across the now burgeoning crowd in King's Cross Station. Her bubble-gum-pink hair fit in amazingly well with that of several young people dressed punk-rock style who passed behind her. "Poor Harry. But maybe he won't feel so isolated this summer since he knows he has a failsafe. From the looks of it, I'd say he qualified for Gryffindor House just by putting up with those ruddy lumps for relatives."

"You don't know the half of it," Remus Lupin added, becoming the first to turn away from The Boy Who Lived and his entourage. "The things he used to tell Sirius-"

Any mention of Sirius' name still left gaping holes in any conversation it dropped into and this was no exception. The weighty silence was immediately followed by uncomfortable squirming among all of them, along with a pressing need to force themselves to move on.

Lupin seemed to feel a moment of surprise that it was he who had allowed Sirius' memory to enter the conversation. He appeared to feel decidedly and sadly awkward and turned to Arthur Weasley. "I suppose I'd best be off. "

Arthur peered into his friend's face and spoke quietly. "Is it going all right with you there alone, Remus? Because I'm sure we could arrange for some of the boys to come early and help-"

Remus seemed to summon some of his own Gryffindor bravery to put on a very faded, weak and weary smile. "I'm all right, Arthur- but thanks for the offer. There are still a lot of people in and out as you know-I may take you up on the offer of some more permanent company down the road. But right now there are so many things to do around that musty old house... Besides, with Kreacher gone now, number twelve, Grimmauld Place seems positively cheerful in comparison to what it was when he was there."

Arthur worked to return the weak smile, obviously aware that there was someone else gone from number twelve, Grimmauld Place whose mention Lupin was now working hard to avoid. "When you're ready, you just give the word. We've spent so much time away from the Burrow that the place is beginning to look a bit shabby, so we really need to catch up a bit. And since we spent most of the summer in London last year, we thought we ought let Ron and Ginny have a few weeks at home -you know, let them work off some steam. But we'll likely have everything cleaned up and locked down there again in no time, so expect us in five or six weeks-earlier if you need us."

"Thank you, Arthur," Lupin said solemnly. "I appreciate it."

With that, Lupin swung to quickly say his goodbyes to the two Aurors standing behind him and then almost immediately disappeared into the crowd.

Ron had been absently listening to the conversation between his father and Lupin as he watched after Harry. One of the few in the group tall enough to still see the very top of Harry's ruffled black hair in the distance, he stared over Hermione's shoulder as he thought about his best mate. He'd always missed Harry loads during the summers, at least until the two could manage to get together again at the Burrow, or as they did last year at Grimmauld Place. And for some reason Harry had seemed more resigned to going with the Dursleys this year than he ever had before, as if he knew something more... But he'd said nothing to Ron about it directly-in fact, Harry had been understandably very withdrawn since that fateful night at the Department of Mysteries.

Seeing Harry in such pain was made even more insufferable by the fact that Ron couldn't clearly recall anything about that night past theThestrals. Beyond their landing in London, there were a few vague pictures in his mind, still images instead of moving pictures, much like some of the Muggle photographs that Hermione had shown him once. A vandalized telephone box, a round room, a door that he wanted desperately to see behind-images that would come into sharp focus momentarily, then become blurry and fade away as if someone was carrying off the light that illuminated them.

Ron felt something bump into his chest and looked down; Hermione had turned, but while still watching after Harry, had taken a step and run directly into the front of Ron.

"Sorry," she said, obviously lost in thought about their best friend and what the summer would hold for him. She sighed.

"He'll be all right, Hermione," Ron said encouragingly, though he wasn't feeling too secure with that himself. "I'm quite sure his aunt and uncle knew that everyone here meant business, too. They looked rather, erm...concerned...didn't you think?"

"I suppose," she said listlessly. "I'd best finish loading the trolley, then."

Ron turned to his father, who was just leaving to return to the Grangers. "We'll be there in a bit, Dad-we're going to load her things."

Ron and Hermione walked slowly away to the luggage pickup area where the handlers had left her trunk and numerous boxes. Neither of them seemed too anxious to get on with the task at hand, because completing it only meant they would have to say goodbye. And with Harry gone, they were already saddened.

"Gets worse every year, doesn't it?" Ron asked, distractedly pushing Hermione's boxes around with his foot rather than loading them onto the empty cart.

"You mean Harry?" she asked. "Or the whole thing?"

"The whole bloody thing," Ron said. "It's just-now I spend half the time that I'm away from everyone wanting to know if they're all right. So what's the point of even trying to be away from them?"

"I don't know," Hermione answered, reluctantly picking up a small box and placing it on her trolley. "Our families need us, too, I suppose...for awhile, anyway. My parents are taking me to Bermuda next week so that we can spend some time together...and that's all fine. But it's a working vacation for them, too-a dental convention-which means I'll have to spend loads of time just lolling about the beach alone."

"The beach?" Ron questioned, grunting as he picked up a box that apparently held many of her precious books. He dropped it rather unceremoniously onto the cart when it got too heavy to hold any longer. "How bad can it be if it has a beach?"

"Well, it's not completely horrible," she admitted. "It's just such a-_frivolous_ place. There's never any weather except for these balmy breezes and sunshine. The big excitement is an occasional thunderstorm. All you can do is just sit on the beach-and the library there is just so...limited-it's a tropical island after all. There's only so much sunshine and boredom one can take." Hermione reached to the floor for a large cloth bag and laid it carefully over her biggest trunk.

Ron shook his head and strained a bit to pick up another box. "Geez, how many books are you taking home? Never mind- sorry I asked. But I'll never understand you, Hermione. You love the library and hate the beach. Who does that?"

She reached over and pushed the heavier boxes together on the trolley as Ron set the next one down. "I don't _hate_ the beach-I just get enough of it rather quickly is all."

"Can I go then?" Ron asked, taking a short breather. "There'll be no sunshine and boredom at my house. Just terrible heat and lots of work. Mum will have us busy putting the Burrow back together so that we can get back to headquarters the month after that. You know my parents-they always need slave labor-and this year Ginny and I are the only slaves left. Hey-I know-maybe Ginny and I can be your new cause-what do you think?"

Ron looked at her with such an impishly hopeful look that she couldn't help but smile at him.

"But I won't be wearing any of those knobbly hats," Ron said quite seriously, then promptly leaned down for another box. He sneaked a glance to see the sneer that he knew would be on her face, then smiled at how right he was. __

"There's probably not much need to worry anyway, you know," Ron said. "Mum'll get bored with just me and Ginny at home in two weeks or less, I'll wager. I'm sure she'd be delighted to have you come and stay. You know Mum."

As she was collecting the last of her things and placing them on the trolley to leave, Hermione stopped loading abruptly to watch a man passing with his own trolley.

"Isn't he beautiful?" she asked Ron. "Looks a bit like Fang, doesn't he?"

Ron looked up from loading the last book box. "Where?" He looked into her face and forced his gaze to follow the direction she nodded in. Then he sniggered as he found them. "The man or the dog?"

The man pushing the trolley was either quite fat or quite muscular; either way, he was indeed quite large. Ron thought the man was probably close in age to his father, perhaps a bit younger. He wore a black trench coat that covered him from his shoulders to his ankles, appearing almost as if he was wearing a robe, and he moved with the lumbering determination of someone with an appointment to keep. A black bowler hat finished off the ensemble, assuring that the man couldn't be identified by simply a passing glance.

The man's trolley carried only a few items, most of which were unremarkable: a valise, a leather bag, a small box. But the majority of the space on the trolley was taken up by an enormous traveling cage, filled with one very large, apparently well-behaved black and brown dog.

Oddly enough, as the two friends were still trying to inconspicuously peer into the cage to see the dog better, the man's trolley hit a crack in the pavement, wobbling the cart just enough to topple the valise to the floor. He stopped the trolley and leaned down to collect his valise, unknowingly halting directly adjacent to one of the trolleys the Weasleys had commandeered earlier. All might have gone well had he not stopped next to that _particular _Weasley trolley.

For tucked on the end for safekeeping was a carrier holding a very large, ginger tabby cat, though he was not part of the Weasley baggage. Perched atop the mountain of luggage on the same cart was the cage of one small tawny owl that hooted and chittered nervously at the noise all around him.

All at once chaos erupted on the spot. Horrible screeching noises and small tawny feathers filled the air. Menacing howls, spitting, and hissing startled the passersby. Loud, booming barks followed by vicious-sounding snaps and snarls echoed through the highest rafters of the station. People hurried to get away at the same time they pressed into one another to avoid the trolley where the tiny little owl fluttered frantically against his cage and a long ginger cat leg reached through the carrier rungs to slash at the air with dangerous claws. The huge dog charged the side of his own cage again and again, jolting it each time until it seemed as if it would topple from the man's trolley as well.

Ron and Hermione dropped what they were holding and rushed to their pets' defense.

"Bloody little pipsqueak! Nasty bugger!" The man complained in a thick, raspy accent at Pig and Crookshanks as the two friends arrived. "And you-" The man picked up something else that Ron and Hermione had not seen stashed on his trolley: a staff-long and stout with a bluntly pointed metal headpiece, "-you-shut up! Bruno! Shut up, I say!" The man leaned over to look into the dog's cage, then roughly jabbed the staff through the rungs, jamming the headpiece forcefully into the dog's ribs.

A resounding yelp came from the dog and he backed away against the other side of the cage. Bruno barked once or twice more, causing the man to jab the staff at him again and again, stabbing at the dog's body with the blunted point. The barking came no more; only the piteous whining and yelping from the enormous dog could be heard now.

Instead of rushing to move away, the few people who passed now stared in horrified shock at the man as he finished beating the dog. Several people glared, but no one said a word. It was obvious from Bruno's response that the dog was used to being treated this way-he now cowered in the corner of the cage in an ever-growing puddle of urine.

"Stop it!" Ron heard next to him.

The man looked up, surprised, at the young bushy-haired girl who'd had the nerve to speak up.

"Stop it! Can't you see you're hurting him? He's terrified!" Hermione said loudly.

Several people in the busy crowd slowed to see what would happen next. The man narrowed his eyes at Hermione, then apparently decided against getting involved any further. He quickly leaned down to pick up his valise and shoved it onto the trolley, throwing the staff aboard alongside the large cage. Leaning his weight against the handle, he began to walk quickly away.

As they left, the enormous dog leaned his huge round head against the bars at the back of the cage, his doleful eyes full of pain-and now focused on Hermione. Ron couldn't help but see his friend taking it all in.

Ron let out the breath that he found he had been holding-he wasn't certain for how long. "Well, that was bloody awful. That bastard shouldn't even be allowed to own a dog when he's that kind of a-" the string of descriptive words Ron released would have usually set off one of Hermione's scoldings, but if she was aware this time, she must have been in complete agreement.

Hermione scratched soothingly at Crookshanks' neck for a few moments to calm him and Ron made a sad little "coo" at Pig; he smoothed his feathers as the tiny owl, terrified, huddled closer to the side of the cage in front of him. Hermione abruptly looked up into Ron's face a split second before he realized she hadn't heard a word he had said.

But the dangerous flash that Ron saw in her eyes in that split second panicked him immediately.

And rightly so. Hermione turned on her heel and set off after the man, stomping her way across the train station and through the throngs of people as if she were a hot knife through butter.

"Hermione!" Ron said loudly, then realized she was already too far away to hear. "Hermione!" he called louder.

His first instinct was to follow her-it probably always would be whenever he was worried that she'd bitten off more than she could chew. But the fact that her parents were just several dozen meters away complicated things. It felt odd to consider going along to keep her out of trouble when maybe that was their job right now. He just wasn't sure.

But he looked at where her parents were, struggling to pick their way through the heavy crowd toward Pig's and Crookshanks' trolley; Moody and Tonks were long gone as well. Ron saw how far away Hermione had managed to get in those few minutes, and at once knew what he had to do.

"Pardon me," he blurted out to the first of the fifty or so people now between him and Hermione. He hurriedly pushed past them, trying to dodge his way through the crowds of people, trolleys, and trunks, stopping every few seconds to reorient himself to her whereabouts, struggling to track her through the masses. Sometimes it was easier to see the man, who was much taller and wider than the bushy-haired zealot who Ron assumed was still hot on his trail.

"Hermione!" Ron shouted, though he couldn't see her anywhere and realized it was probably to no avail. Hoping, but not expecting that she had given up at some point and headed back toward their parents, Ron was just about to turn back himself when he saw that the man had stopped in an alcove next to the main stairway._ I don't see her, but with Hermione, I'd better make certain she went back, _he thought.

Approaching the area with the utmost caution, Ron was hoping to see just the man and not Hermione; with the expression the man had left with, Ron didn't intend to disturb the bloke and his dog any more than they had already been disturbed. The man stood facing a circle of rather menacing-looking men, and Ron was relieved to see that the group was greeting the new arrival in a business-like fashion. _At least they're not being interrupted by some opinionated, bushy-haired creatures' rights activist-thank Merlin,_ he thought.

But Ron's expression of relief quickly turned to a grimace of concern as he saw the opinionated, bushy-haired creatures' rights activist push her way free from the crowd and defiantly step up behind the man with the dog.

"Excuse me, sir, but considering our location, I can fully appreciate the fact that you may not be a British citizen," Hermione's voice shrilly rang out through the hollowness of the stairwell as Ron cringed. "However, in our country, we do not allow such treatment of animals, no matter what they've done-and that poor dog of yours only did what was purely instinctive. I happen to know that the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals has a kiosk here in the station for inspections-I'm sure they would be very interested to know that you mistreat your dog, even in public. Heaven knows what you do to him in private."

Ron winced at the sharpness of her words, half wishing that he could turn around and pretend that he didn't know her and that none of this had happened. But he willed himself to keep stepping forward until he stood right behind Hermione. He was not in the least bit pleased that he too now shared the focus of the menacing-looking men.

He vaguely heard Hermione's voice as she continued to chide the man with the dog, reminding him of laws and regulations that pertained to animal rights. But as males are wont to do in a confrontational situation, he took a brief moment to check out the opposition.

There were five men in a line facing them, aside from the man with the dog. Most were tall, rather burly-looking sorts, but even the shortest looked as if he could break a normal man in two should he so desire. They were dressed in very similar fashion to the man with the dog-apparently they didn't want their appearance to call attention to them in any way-their dark overcoats and bowler hats hid their identities well.

A small group of on-lookers had gathered and were now milling around behind him and Hermione. Ron saw the men becoming increasingly uneasy with the attention they were attracting. Looking nervously at one another, several of the men felt their coat fronts for something.

Their look of solemnity caused Ron to reflexively feel for his wand hidden in the back pocket of his jeans. His fingers felt the comfort of its smooth hardness under the fabric, but he just as quickly realized he wouldn't dare use magic in the middle of King's Cross station. "Hermione-let's go," he said in a deeply serious, throaty voice.

Hermione didn't pay him one bit of attention. "How would you like it if it was you inside that cage and..." she carried on, chattering at the man.

One of the men seemed to find that mental image quite amusing and he began to laugh nervously. The others laughed at his laughter and all but the man with the dog were soon chuckling and guffawing heartily at Hermione's ranting. Yet Ron could sense that underlying the laughter was an uneasy tension that he didn't want any part of-or want Hermione to be any part of, either. He was going to have to get her out of there on his own, without magic, no matter what it took to do it.

The man with the dog was the only one who was not a bit amused by any of this. His grim, tight-lipped expression grew more sinister by the moment as he stared a hole through Hermione, especially once the laughter had begun.

Ron purposely bumped his knee against Hermione's leg and grabbed her by the elbow. In a voice that he hoped would sound more like he was joking rather than bely his true feelings of urgent concern, Ron spoke to the men as if Hermione was just the slightest bit daft. "Excuse us-she _loves_ animals. Hermione, you don't need to save the world today-anyway, that's Harry's job..."

Hermione yanked her arm free of his grasp immediately, the men's laughter apparently irritating her more deeply and egging her on.

But soon the laughter stopped. The look of cold irritation and impatience with the girl in front of them had returned to their faces-it wasn't funny any more.

Ron leaned closer to Hermione's ear. "Let's _go!"_ he whispered urgently and forcefully. "It's not that you're wrong, but-_look_ at them!"

Hermione continued to talk on, regaling the men with stories of how animal owners had been prosecuted to the full extent of the law for much lesser crimes than animal beating.

"Little girl-" The man with the dog finally spoke slowly with a thick accent in his deep, gravelly, and very threatening voice; suddenly everyone around them went silent and still to listen, "-this dog is no concern of yours."

His tone finally stopped Hermione. In fact, she and Ron both stood staring in pale silence with wide eyes and dropped jaws at the vicious expression on the man's face. Ron later remembered thinking he'd rather face the enormous dog with a full-blown case of rabies than face this man even one moment longer.

Distracted by the five other men prodding one another in the arm and exchanging meaningful looks as they began to reach_ inside_ their coat fronts this time, Ron decided he could wait no longer. He wrapped one arm tightly around Hermione's shoulder, pressing her against his side to keep her and her arms from getting loose; he pulled back firmly, forcing her to step away with him as he reached behind him with the other arm to break through the crowd.

"'Evening, gents," Ron said shakily to the men, though his attempt at politeness was probably overshadowed by the tension in his voice.

"Ron! Stop it!" Hermione hissed, trying in vain to wriggle free. "Let go of me!"

But this time Ron ignored _her._ He kept them moving away through the crowd.

"First you criticize me about the house-elves and S.P.E.W.-" she continued, "now you won't even let me save that poor dog!"

Ron still said nothing. He was beginning to learn that one of the best ways to defuse one of Hermione's rants was to just let her go and let it burn itself out. Still keeping a tight hold on her, he swung around so that at least the two of them could face forward as he hurried her along, bumping and pushing his way through the throngs.

"Let _go_ of me!" Hermione said loudly, yanking her arm free enough that she pulled back and elbowed him hard in the ribs.

"Owww!" Ron cried out, holding his side and trying to catch his breath. Luckily, they were far enough away from the men that she didn't seem to be entertaining thoughts of returning to them. "Damn, Hermione! That bloke was downright hacked off at you-they all were-I was trying to do you a favor-"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him and clenched her fists. She tossed her head and stomped away toward her trolley, leaving Ron standing in the crowd alone.

"Yeah, well-" Ron called after her in pain, "I was trying to save a lot more than a_ dog!_ -And you're_ welcome!" _he shouted in irritation.

By the time Ron was finally able to straighten up enough to retrieve his own trolley and wheel it to where their parents were standing, Hermione was describing all that had taken place on the far side of the station. ..._Leaving out a few choice tidbits,_ Ron thought sullenly.

"Oh-Ron-here you are, dear," Molly Weasley said as he walked up.

"Yeah-what took you so long?" Fred demanded.

"And what _happened_ toyou?" George asked, eyeing Ron as he still leaned a bit to one side. "Break a rib pushing a trolley, did you?"

Ron just glowered at his brothers. "Ask her," he grumbled, nodding toward Hermione.

Fred and George looked at one another with eyebrows raised, apparently deciding it was unwise to pursue the matter. The two of them then turned away, straightening their new green dragonhide jackets to attract the attention of a group of teenaged girls walking by with the crowd.

Trying to catch Hermione's eye for the entire few minutes that everyone remained in the station, Ron waited quietly when he realized she simply wasn't going to look at him. Just as the Grangers were preparing to leave, Mrs. Granger leaned over to say goodbye to Ron, then nudged Hermione in the arm.

"Aren't you going to say goodbye to Ron, dear?" Mrs. Granger asked.

"Yeah-I reckon I've made it easier to say goodbye to me this time, haven't I?" Ron asked quietly.

Hermione looked up at Ron grudgingly. "Goodbye," she snapped. She reached toward the end of Ron's trolley to retrieve the carrier with Crookshanks inside, placing it carefully on the end of her own cart. And with that, she stepped up to help her father push away her heavy book- and cat-laden trolley without once glancing behind her.

Ron sighed, knowing that he had done what he could. But it certainly wasn't a good omen for what the rest of the summer held, if one believed in such things. _And why wouldn't I believe in them, when a lot of it's been such a lousy year already?_

Dejectedly pushing his trolley toward the front of the station, Ron had little energy or will left to fight his way through the crowds; he quickly fell behind the rest of his family. As long as he could still see them up ahead, he trudged along, heading for what he felt was destined to be a terrible summer, especially if he couldn't spend much of it with Harry and with Hermione spending a lot of it being angry.

Ron had just managed to shove his trolley through the outside door to the street when he felt someone grab his arm. His eyes darted down in alarm.

Looking up at him with her sincere cinnamon eyes and her cheeks flushed pink -was Hermione.

"What-forget to remind me of something else awful I've done to you lately?" Ron asked irritably.

Hermione looked down at her feet a moment before returning her focus to his eyes. _Maybe she isn't quite so angry any more-she doesn't look it._

"Sorry-I didn't want to leave like-maybe you were-well-thank you," she stammered.

Ron sighed in frustration. "Hermione-deep breath-it'll take five seconds more to tell me what in the_ world_ you're really trying to say."

She breathed. "I couldn't leave with us like that. That _horrible_ man was so wrong-but you weren't wrong in trying to help me. I couldn't do anything against those men-not that way. Sorry-and thank you."

Ron looked deeply into her eyes momentarily. She meant it. _Oh, what the hell..._He hadn't had much luck staying angry with her this year anyway. He shrugged. "That's okay."

"And I forgot to give you-well-" Hermione looked away from him into the distance then, as if she were nervous about something.

Ron visually checked both her hands, neither of which held anything at all; he was confused. "Give me _what?"_

Hermione swiftly tilted her face to his, pushed up on her toes, and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

Ron's fingers went to his face immediately, touching the spot where her warm, soft lips had been. He remembered that feeling vaguely from a pre-Quidditch daze before his first game some months ago-but this time, he intended to remember the feeling quite clearly for some time.

Hermione's eyes lingered on his for a few brief seconds, her cheeks blushing vivid pink now. She smiled shyly, then quickly turned and ran into the crowd, disappearing through an open car door at the curb some thirty meters away.

Ron stood rooted to the spot, thinking about how he had never realized before how sensitive his cheek could be.

"There you are," a familiar voice said from behind him. "Mum thought you were lost."

"Come on, Ronniekins," an almost-identical voice said in a mock-childish tone, "do we need to strap you to the rest of the family so you can keep up?"

Ron ignored the twin redheads tugging at his trolley handle, still staring after the spot where her car had pulled away and disappeared.

"See you soon, Hermione," he whispered.


	2. How They Kicked Uranus

Disclaimer: All of Harry's wonderful, magical world belongs to J.K. Rowling, with her truly amazing imagination, and the writing skills to present it perfectly._  
_(Forgot the disclaimer on the first chapter-hope this will suffice!)

_A/N: Loads of thanks again to my talented and amazing betas __**Christina Teresa, Seakays**__, and __**sunshyndaisies**__!_

~ Chapter Two ~  
How They Kicked Uranus

Ron was too lethargic to care that the screen door had just slammed shut behind him.  
He threw himself into one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

'Was that you, Ron?" his mother yelled from somewhere in the house.

"Yes, Mum-sorry about the door, Mum!" he droned, yelling back toward the kitchen door. "You'll have me fixing it by tomorrow anyway, Mum..." he finished under his breath.

The copy of the _Daily Prophet _that seemed to be open and seated by itself at the table giggled.

"How can it be so hot already?" Ron groaned. "It's barely-what?-" he asked, squinting at the clock across the room, "-nine o'clock in the morning." Even working in his jean shorts, trainers, and a sleeveless undershirt hadn't helped much.

Ron had never been one for getting up early to get a jump on the day. But getting a jump on the heat when he'd been assigned to garden detail was quite another matter. He'd started at daybreak and had practically finished all of the de-gnoming, if the little buggers that were left didn't help their kin back under the fence while he took a break from the heat. Grabbing the towel that was slung over his shoulder, he mopped his face, then threw it haphazardly over the back of his chair.

Ginny pulled the corner of the paper down long enough to look at her brother and state the obvious. "It _is_ July." She promptly returned to her reading.

Judging from her tone, Ron thought it safe to ask, but there hadn't been a morning since he'd been home this summer that he hadn't felt like either sneaking up on the headlines, if he had to deal with them himself, or letting someone else get to the paper first so he could read their mood instead. _Hermione's never afraid of what she'll find there,_ he suddenly thought. _She's probably reading it right now on her beach in -whatever that place was._

"Is there...anything?" Ron asked tentatively.

Ginny seemed to understand quite clearly what he was asking. "No...no...not in the first section anyway. Unless they've relegated You-Know-Who to the back and the bottom now. And I doubt he'd stand for that."

Ron shot her a sour expression. "That's not even funny, Gin."

Ginny shrugged and returned to her reading behind the paper as Ron stood and crossed to the icebox to pour a cold glass of pumpkin juice. He drank the glassful straight down, filled it again, and carried it back to the table. Flopping into the chair once more, Ron was distracted by a photo on the very back page of the paper held in front of him.

A very tall, woolly, ape-like creature pounded his chest, then raised his fists angrily for some ten seconds or so, dropping his gigantic arms to run into the woods behind him. From there, the creature ran out of the woods into the clearing once more in the picture and started the process again, this time turning to make a particularly disagreeable face directly at Ron.

Ron stared at the creature in alarm for a moment, then looked away to read the caption. _"British zoolowizards to study behavior changes in docile creatures." _He returned his gaze to the photo again, just as the creature threw a fearsome and threatening expression at him. "Nothing docile about you, I don't think. Hacked off about the heat too, aren't you?"

Ginny stopped reading and flipped the corner down to look at her brother again. "Who are you talking to?" She glanced with disinterest at the picture he'd been studying and seeing that he was quite involved in the back page, Ginny folded the _Prophet _backwards and shoved it across the table to him.

"Actually, I was done looking at his pretty face," Ron said, but he pulled the front page up to read it nonetheless.

Ginny dragged a bowl in front of her from those set out on the table. She grabbed the open box of Flickett's Flakelets and poured herself some, then got milk from the icebox and filled the bowl, grabbing a spoon and crunching the cereal noisily as Ron read. With apparently nothing else of interest to focus on, Ginny's eyes inadvertently wandered to her brother's freckled arms.

He didn't know how long she'd been looking at the scars before he noticed. "They're ugly, aren't they?"

Ginny quickly glanced away. "What?"

"Get off it, Gin," Ron said. "I saw you looking at them."

Ordinarily, he took great care to wear long sleeves, even when it had really been too warm for them at the end of school. He wasn't even comfortable wearing his sleeves rolled up like he used to, but would just leave the long sleeves down, open and loose while everyone else sported their short-sleeved t-shirts. Dr. Ubbly's Unctious Unction had done what it could, but the trailing red welts left from the slashes had turned into raised, pinkish scars nonetheless.

Ron stared a hole through Ginny until she finally gave in.

"I was just seeing if they were going away at all," Ginny admitted. "Do they hurt?"

"No. Not really," Ron said. "It's kind of odd, though. Sometimes I get these strange pulling sensations, like there were strings in my arms tugging on my brain, if that makes any sense. Madam Pomfrey said that should go away."

"Should?" Ginny questioned.

"Yeah," Ron snorted. "Should. I didn't much like the sound of that, either."

"But didn't Madam Pomfrey tell you she could get rid of the scars when we go back to Hogwarts in the fall?" Ginny pushed her cereal bowl out of the way and peered more closely-she seemed to expect him to draw back because this was the first time Ron had let her see the scars at all.

Ron remembered that Harry had told him Ginny was with them when the brain attacked Ron and slashed into his skin, but Ron still wasn't comfortable with anyone inspecting the scars that studiously-even Ginny. It made him feel...open... somehow-as if they could almost see inside of him and see what he was thinking. As if it wasn't bad enough just to be self-conscious about how hideous they were...

"That's what she said," Ron confirmed. "Said she had to let them heal more and let the skin settle into place, whatever that means. But if she can't fix them better, don't bother buying me anything with short sleeves for Christmas-because I _won't_ be wearing it. And swim shorts are definitely out."

Ginny tilted her head, looking up at him sincerely. "They're not _that_ bad."

"Really?" Ron said. "Wouldn't you like some then, crawling all the way up around your arms and across your chest?"

Ginny said nothing, but winced at the thought.

"And you know the worst part, Gin?" Ron asked, slapping the newspaper onto the table. "I don't even remember how they got there aside from they told me it was a brain, whatever that means, and everyone's been told not to tell me anything _else _because they might make matters worse. How lucky can I get, eh?" he asked sarcastically.

"Well, people aren't trying to keep from telling you because they don't want to, it's just-" Ginny began.

"I know, I know," Ron interrupted irritably. "They're trying to help me, right? Good thing they're not actually_ trying_ to keep me in the dark or anything...Do you know what it's like to wake up in the hospital wing-your best friend's godfather is dead, your other best friend is half dead herself, your sister has a broken ankle, two others who were with you are badly injured, you yourself are covered in slashes and you have a headache so bad you can't see straight-and you don't remember one bloody thing about how it all happened? It's enough to drive you completely mad, Gin. You oughtta know."

"Yeah-I know," Ginny said dryly. "Now try finding out that you're the one that caused all the pain and the fear-and you _still _don't know how it happened until everyone explains it to you after it's all over."

The somber look on his sister's face tugged at Ron's heart. He knew he shouldn't have brought up the Chamber of Secrets the instant it slipped out of his mouth. "But remember that Harry and I were the first ones to fill you in once we were all out of the Chamber. I would have told you before that, though, Gin, if I'd known. I would have gotten through to you somehow-you know I would have. "

"And I believe you," Ginny said. "But this could hurt you, Ron-it's different. Madam Pomfrey told us. It could hurt your mind-your thoughts. Your telling me about the diary could have only helped."

Ron just shook his head in disgust. "I couldn't even get Luna to tell me-I thought maybe her mind was off chasing Smoky Kornacks or whatever she calls them when they told everyone else not to talk to me about it."

"You asked _Luna?"_ Ginny said incredulously, trying to stifle a giggle. Something about her brother trying to avoid Luna's adoring looks at him while attempting to get information he wanted just struck her funny, in spite of the seriousness of the moment.

"I figured I'd take a shot," Ron said defensively, sensing her amusement. "Ha ha, Ginny. It's so funny I think I'd rather go hang out in the heat with the gnomes." He stood, gulping down the rest of his pumpkin juice, then grabbed the towel from the back of his chair. Throwing it over his shoulder, he stalked across the kitchen and out of the door, letting it slam behind him once again.

Ginny appeared to feel badly after her giggle slipped out. She called out to him once, but he ignored her.

"Ron, _stop_ slamming that door!" Mrs. Weasley called from wherever she'd been earlier.

Ginny sat quietly for a moment, apparently thinking. "It wasn't him this time, Mum," she called. "It was me-I slammed the door."

She'd been mulling it over in her mind all day, ever since her talk with Ron this morning. She remembered too well the horrible feeling of helplessness and the complete humiliation that had washed over her afterwards, once she'd found out all that had happened and her part in it. It was she who had been possessed by Voldemort, she who was forced to do his will in the Chamber of Secrets, she who had been used to lure Harry there to face his fate.

Voldemort's possession of Harry's mind this past year had brought it all to the surface again. She'd thought that time might make the memories easier to bear. But she was wrong. Perhaps some of the details had dulled a bit in her mind by now; yet like the vines that ever so slowly choked the oak tree outside her window day by day and year by year, the thoughts and emotions never ceased intertwining and striving to smother her. The memories no longer constantly overwhelmed her with blinding pain, but they stabbed at her from time to time with brutal and jagged thrusts-he would never let her forget, and he would never let her be sure it could never happen again...

Ginny found herself on her bare feet, walking the hallway, climbing the stairs to the uppermost landing, and knocking on the door, which swung open at her touch.

No matter how many times she'd been there, the shock of that much orange hitting her senses at once always stunned her. The Cannons players on the ceiling swooped and dove among the stars that Ron had charmed to shine at night in homage to the ceiling of the Great Hall. She focused on the players to bring herself back to the moment at hand.

Ron lay stretched on his side on the bed, his hair still wet from showering after an early-evening dip in the pond out back; his skin was tinged pink from the July sun that had glared down on him for more than half of the day. In shorts and an undershirt again, he seemed to want to make the most of feeling the cool summer breeze that occasionally blew the orange curtains several feet into the room from the wide-open windows.

"If you climbed this far, I reckon I'd better let you come in," he said to her jokingly, looking up from the _Cannons Quarterly_ lying open on the bed in front of him. Ron threw his feet to the floor and walked to stand in front of one of the windows, his fingers laced behind his head, reveling in the cool air hitting his body. "You know, Ginny, we pay for it with the heat all day, but there is nothing-_nothing_ -that feels as good as the night breeze like this. I hope it's still nice like this at night when Hermione comes."

_Hermione again, _she thought, rolling her eyes though he couldn't see. "I know," she said quietly, walking in to settle herself in a tattered old squashy orange chair Ron had rescued from the neighbors' lawn when they moved. Ginny heard gentle scraping noises beyond the ceiling overhead, then a loud 'thunk' followed by a clatter-she had always wondered how Ron managed to sleep with all the racket the ghoul in the attic made. But then, she supposed it was the price one paid to get your own room when you were the last in a long line of Weasley males.

"The house is bloody quiet without Fred and George here a lot of the time, isn't it?" Ron asked. The twins had taken a small back room in their Diagon Alley joke shop premises and fashioned it into a small apartment of sorts. The two of them often stayed there overnight during the week or when they were up until all hours designing the next new height of trickery. They did, however, have a penchant for showing up to stay at home on those evenings when Mrs. Weasley was cooking what her children thought of as some of her more 'amazing' meals-how the twins knew just when that would happen was anybody's guess. "I reckon most of the time the quiet's a blessing, but it's certainly weird."

"Yeah, I know," Ginny agreed. "I think my heart's stronger now, though-not always skipping a beat whenever one of their explosions rock the walls."

"So what are you up to?" Ron asked her, wandering back to sit on the edge of his bed.  
"Mom send you to pass out the chores list for tomorrow?"

"No-don't remind me," Ginny said. "I only had to rearrange the bookshelves and wash every little thing on them today-which would have been fine, but the figurines kept coming to life and whining and yelling when I put them in the water. Tomorrow I have to clean out the downstairs closet-you know, the one that my brothers have shoved everything into for years when it was their turn to clean the living room?"

Ron tried his best to look appalled. "Maybe your other brothers did that. But me? You know I'd never-"

"Shut it _now_," she said dryly, "before some ancient evil curse comes over you that turns the tongues of all liars to stone."

Ron looked at her, alarmed. "Ergh! Blimey, Gin. See if I mess with you again."

Ginny smiled sweetly. "That's the point."

"So you're just in for a visit then? Serious boredom?" Ron asked.

"No. Serious thinking, actually. I came to tell you, you were right."

He grinned smugly. "Oh, now we're talking! About what_ this_ time?"

"About my first year with the diary-you were right-you would have told me if you'd known-I know you would have. There was no one who could help me then-but _I'm _someone who can help you now. For that-_I'm_ willing to talk-if you're sure you want to take the chance on problems later."

"Not-the DoM?" Ron asked, incredulous and eager. "You will? You are?"

"I'll tell you what I know-which isn't all of it, remember," Ginny warned. "The Death Eaters finally got to me, too-long before it was all over, from what I've heard."

"But at least you've heard!" Ron said excitedly. "You can put the whole night together with what you know and what they've told you. People have been looking at me oddly since and treating me like they have to pussyfoot around me all the time with what they say-it's bloody awful! Especially when I don't know why. It feels like...it feels like I was...I don't know, like something was _really_ wrong with me-like I'd grown two heads or something."

Ginny considered what he'd said. "Well, it wasn't _quite_ that bad."

Ron reached over and yanked open a drawer in his bedside table. "Here- special occasion-long as they keep you talking..." He pulled out a bagful of Bertie Bott's Beans and threw them to Ginny, grabbing another already-opened bag from the drawer for himself. Ron seized his pillows and propped them at the foot of the bed under his elbows, stretching out again and obviously preparing for a good, long listen.

Ginny took a deep breath and let it out. "So how far do you remember?"

He knitted his brows in thought. "Really only up to landing in London with the Thestrals. You know, I've never been that afraid of heights, but I remember it being just a bit unnerving when I couldn't even see what was keeping me aloft. Good thing Harry told me there was some kind of beast I was riding on, because if it had just been those other two-Neville and that mental case Luna-I never would have let those things lift me off the ground."

She smiled a little. "Do you remember the phone booth?" Ginny asked. "You know, the one Dad takes us in when we go to the Ministry?"

"I remember going in it with Dad a long time ago," Ron said rather sadly. "But I don't remember getting in with you and Harry and Hermione and everyone." He sat up and scrabbled around in the still-open bedside table drawer for a moment. "I have this."

Ron help up a badly battered little silver badge that had printed on the front:

_Ron Weasley  
Rescue Miss_

"I know it's supposed to say Rescue Mission, but something nicked off the corner with the 'i-o-n'," Ron said, rubbing the badge with his pillowslip to shine off the fingerprints. "Considering how it turned out for Sirius, it's scarily accurate." He continued to gaze at it oddly as Ginny continued.

"Well, as far as I know, you seemed awake and aware far longer than landing with the Thestrals," Ginny said. "But it must have been when they hit you in the head that it erased some of your earlier memories."

"I rather figured out the 'blow to the head' part from the killer headache when I woke up," Ron said.

"Well, let me tell it in order so I don't get it all confused."

Ginny proceeded to recount all of the events of their adventure in the Department of Mysteries, from the elevator through the Atrium, through the whirling circular room of doors. She told Ron of some of the rooms they encountered, with Harry trying to discern with each if it was the one he had seen in his dream or not.

Ginny, who had been tossing a Bertie Botts' bean in her mouth every once in a while, suddenly made a terrible face.

Ron noticed. "What'd you get? Sardine? Those are bloody awful!"

"No, I wish I could say it was only the sweets," Ginny said. "I was just thinking about what happened next, our first time through the Brain Room. You'll find out why I don't like to think about it too hard-just wait." Ginny continued on, telling about Hermione marking the doors with her fiery X's so that they could tell where they'd been.

"Bloody brilliant, she is," Ron put in.

Somehow Ginny knew her brother wouldn't pass up an opportunity to say something like that. Hopefully, it would distract him from her description of the Room with the Veil long enough for her to get farther along in the story. She recounted Harry's and Ron's attempts to get into the locked room, which were to no avail. Then she told him about the Time Room and she described in detail her own fascination with the hummingbird that continually changed from an egg to a bird to an egg and back again.

Finally, they came to the room that Harry had been looking for: the room from his dream, the room where he believed he'd find Sirius and from where they would rescue him and get away-the Room of Prophecies. Ginny described how heartbroken and yet confused Harry had looked when Sirius was nowhere to be found.

"You found his prophecy then, you know," Ginny said.

_"I _did?" Ron asked, shifting onto one elbow. "Neville let something slip about prophecies once. How did I 'find' a prophecy?"

Ginny explained about the rows upon rows of glass spheres, towering to the church-high ceiling, telling Ron of how he'd been the only one tall enough to spot Harry's prophecy. And that the moment Harry had taken it from the shelf, Lucius Malfoy and the Death Eaters appeared, surrounding them.

Trying to make Ron understand the feeling of helplessness they all felt, Ginny watched his brows furrowing deeper as she spoke. "Didn't we even _try_ to get away?" he asked, sounding rather irritated.

"There were twice as many of them, Ron-grownups- trained killers," Ginny explained. "We were cornered-you could see their wand-tips glowing, pointing at our hearts."

"I should have tried-" Ron began.

"You started to," Ginny finished. "That horrible Bellatrix woman was talking baby talk, mocking Harry. Harry knew you were getting hacked off because you were squirming next to him-he told you not to do anything yet. If it had been anyone but Harry..."

Ron narrowed his eyes. "Go on," he said tersely.

Realizing what kind of a mood this was putting her brother in-not that he could do anything about it at the moment-Ginny decided to skip over the part where Bellatrix Lestrange had wanted to torture her. She did tell of how Bellatrix and Lucius Malfoy started squabbling with one another as Harry kept them talking, while the rest of their group shifted uncomfortably and tried to think of what in the world they could do to escape. Ginny told Ron what happened when two of the prophecies were smashed.

"Hermione was in the middle, behind Harry. The next thing we knew, Hermione was leaning toward all of us, passing on Harry's message to be ready for his signal with the Reductor Curse," Ginny recounted. "So that's exactly what we did. Once Harry yelled, 'Now!' we all blasted the shelves in six different places. All at once it was raining heavy pieces of shelves and glass everywhere. There were voices all around us and wispy white figures, all dancing among the Death Eaters who were trying to get at us."

"And so we ran?" Ron asked, a strange expression on his face. "I remember running in the dark with pieces of things falling on my head and you were there. But I thought I'd dreamt it."

"Do you remember stopping and changing directions then?" Ginny asked.

Her brother sat silently for a moment, thinking. "I remember suddenly not knowing what to do. Did that happen-were we lost? Did we go the wrong way?"

"No, _we _didn't-" Ginny said, "-Luna did. When we got to the end of the row where the Death Eaters had trapped us, we were all running with our arms over our heads because of everything raining down on us-it was dark and so hard to see. She was a few steps ahead of us and we saw her run to the left instead of the right. We yelled after her, but it was too loud for her to hear. So you grabbed my wrist and yanked me along with you to follow her."

Ron was grimacing. "Oh, something must have already hit me on the head by then to make me think of following _her._ Please tell me that's what happened."

"No-I'm pretty sure you were still in your right mind then," Ginny explained. "And you _have_ been known to follow people to make sure they were safe-not that I would know." She looked at him with eyebrows raised.

Furrowing his brow and ignoring her at first, he returned his gaze to the little silver badge before speaking grumpily. "All right, then what?"

"By the time we'd caught up to Luna, the Death Eaters were right behind us. We ducked into a dark space behind a shelf and they ran right by. We were going to try and double back to head the direction we should have gone in the first place, because we hadn't even seen Harry or Hermione or Neville. But as soon as we got out into the hallway again, we could hear their footsteps at the end coming back toward us. So we opened the first unlocked door we came to and stepped inside."

By the end of her description, Ron was thoroughly engrossed again in what she was saying. "Is that the room where the thing attacked me?"

"No, we're getting to 'the thing'," Ginny said. "But I know for a fact that it was in this room where you mentally checked out-in the Planet Room."

"Uranus!" Ron said loudly, startling even himself. "I remember Uranus!"

"Figures that'd be the part you'd remember," Ginny said, shaking her head. "By the end of this, we're in mortal peril, you and I are both injured, Luna has to save us, and you remember Uranus. You told Harry all about Uranus once we got out, too-fixated much, are you?"

But Ron hadn't even heard the last sentence-his listening had apparently screeched to a halt in the middle somewhere. _"Luna_ had to save _us?"_ Ron said in disbelief. "How did that happen?"

"Well, if you'd shut up for a while, you might find out. I'm _trying_ to tell you," Ginny said, slightly exasperated.

"All right, all right. I'll listen," Ron said, stuffing his chin into the pillow to cover his mouth after throwing in about ten Bertie Botts Beans.

"So we stepped into the Planet Room and there was nothing there-nothing!" Ginny said. "Not even a floor. We stepped off into nothingness and we were floating-there was no gravity-and because we'd pushed off so hard from the doorway without knowing, we were floating apart quickly-in different directions. The door closed and after a short time of floating in pure darkness, the planets started to glow and come into focus-some far away and some very close. It was so, so beautiful if it hadn't have been so scary. You yelled for us to stay together and when Luna yelled "How?" you told us to wait a minute. So you got out your wand and tried the Relashio Charm. It shot sparks that anyone would be able to see, but we thought we were the only ones in the room and we found the spark jet would push us in a certain direction. You yelled for us to do _"Relashio Continuus!"_ which gave us a slow but steady push. That way we could move ourselves closer together."

"At least I did _some_thing to help get us out," Ron said quietly, sounding slightly disgusted with himself.

"By then, we were out near the rings of Saturn," Ginny continued, shifting around in her chair. "There was a flash of light from somewhere-it was like one of the stars exploded or something, but then everything went dark again, the planets, the stars, all of it. We just all held onto one another and floated in the darkness, waiting to see what would happen next because there was nothing else we could do. When it had been silent for a few minutes, you tried "Lumos" to see where we were so that we didn't crash into a planet. It was a good thing that the planets there didn't seem to have their own gravity like they do in space."

"The exploding star did all that?" Ron asked.

"No, because when you lit your wand, someone yelled, "Over there!' and it was then that we knew it was the Death Eaters opening the door and coming in that had made the light," Ginny said. "We didn't know how the Death Eaters were moving so fast in the room, but they'd probably been there before, or at least had been told what to do. But we could see they were coming our way much too fast for us to do anything about it-especially when the only way that we knew to get anywhere was to use sparks and they could see that."

Ron was shaking his head. "I can't believe I can't remember any of this. You're sure I didn't get clubbed in the head with something in the Prophecy Room?

"You certainly acted like you knew what you were doing up to this point, so if you can do that after being clubbed, more power to you," Ginny said. "Anyway, we were very close to Jupiter just from floating and Luna had an idea. There's this huge storm on Jupiter-on the real planet out in space it's three hundred eighteen times as big as Earth, right? You probably learned that in Astronomy."

"Three hundred eighteen times as big as _Earth?"_ Ron asked, looking impressed, but suddenly his demeanor changed to a look of self-assurance. "Yeah-yeah, that's what we learned. I knew that."

Ginny furrowed her brow this time-_learned it-right._ "Luna's idea was to try and make the Death Eaters believe that we were swallowed up by the storm on Jupiter. It wasn't as big as the one in space, of course, but we still didn't dare get too near it because we had no idea what might happen. If we could look like we were on course for it, then hide behind Io, one of Jupiter's moons, we could wait for the one Death Eater who was way out in front to pass us and then push him in."

"Luna thought of all that?"

"Well-no. She thought of making it look like we'd been swallowed up by the storm._ I _thought of actually pushing the Death Eater into it," Ginny said proudly.

"Good job, Gin," Ron congratulated. "You're learning all the right stuff from me."

Ginny rolled her eyes and stood up to stretch. "If that worked, we figured we had time to get to the backside of Jupiter and float through Uranus to hide."

"What? Float through _Uranus? _" Ron asked. "Whose ruddy idea was that?"

"Luna's and mine-and yeah, that's what you said when we suggested it, too," Ginny assured him. "Uranus is a gas giant, remember. There's nothing solid about it. But it's made of poisonous gas, so we had to be able to hold our breath that long or use the Bubble Head Charm Luna conjured, because we didn't know exactly how long it would take us to get back out again."

"Wait-wait-hold up here," Ron said, holding both palms facing forward. "Does anybody but the three of us know that we floated through Uranus?"

"I don't know-Harry and Hermione, Neville. Probably Dumbledore, he knows everything..." Ginny counted. She stopped to glance at his irritable expression, then sighed in frustration. "It's a _planet,_ Ron."

"I know-but it just doesn't sound too good," he said, still looking worried. "And the fact that it's a 'gas giant' makes things even worse. Think of what Malfoy could do with that-or, bloody hell-_swear_ to me you'll never tell Fred and George!"

"Ron, I think you're the only one who has this problem with Uranus!" Ginny scolded.

"I am not! Harry thinks it's funny, too. But not when it's directed_ at _us."

"Well, after what happened to all of us, I'm pretty sure Harry doesn't find it very funny any more. Do you want to hear the rest of this or not? Because I'm thirsty and I'm about this close-" Ginny held her thumb and forefinger up about an inch apart, "- to getting up and leaving, if you'd rather talk to yourself about Uranus."

"Okay, okay," Ron said, half sitting and reaching to his bedside table to grab a glass and hand it to her. "And here- I'll let you share my pumpkin juice, but it's sort of, erm...warm." Ron then settled back down into his pillows. "So her plan didn't work and then someone banged me over the head..." Ron speculated.

Ginny took a long draught of the pumpkin juice, warm or not, and then held the glass in her lap. "Well..not exactly. Her plan did work, to some extent. We did manage to lure the first Death Eater close enough for him to look into the storm. Then we shot our way out, all shoved with our legs, and pushed him into the middle of the storm. The only thing was, doing that pushed us out of position to just float our way around Jupiter without them seeing, so we almost had to swim through space and hope we were fast enough. Luna conjured her Bubble Head Charm for all of us, but then it was so cloudy and murky through the gases that none of us could see. It was right when we came out that it happened."

"What? Your ankle?" Ron asked, glancing toward where her leg curled under her in the chair after she sat down once more.

"No. Your head."

"But how did they- if I had a Bubble Head on?" Ron questioned.

"That'll keep gases out, Ron, not other spells," Ginny said. "What happened was that you wanted to make sure that it was safe for us to emerge from the gases. We were nearing the outer limits of the Solar System and we thought there might be a way out because we had seen the end of the stars and there was no other indication that there was anything besides our own solar system in there with us. So we thought if maybe we could just get to Pluto...We were inside the far side of Uranus, we'd only have Neptune and Pluto to go if the coast was clear, then maybe we could find a door somewhere out there."

"So then I came out of Uranus-the planet- first?" Ron cringed at his own words. "I'm trying here, Gin. I'm really trying to maintain."

"I know. Duly noted," Ginny said, trying to stifle a giggle at his efforts. "And well, you thought you were going to come out first."

"I _thought_ I was?"

"Well, the Bubble Head bubble was driving me mad, and I wanted to get it off of me, so even though you wanted me to stay hidden in the gases, I kind of went on out anyway."

"Before I checked for Death Eaters?"

"I told you-I felt like I couldn't breathe in there and I had to have it off, so I just sort of floated out first and reversed the charm," Ginny said. "So you floated out and reversed yours to yell at me, and we never really checked to see if anyone else was about and then-they were right there. You hit one of them with "Stupefy!" before he could get a spell off on you. The other one actually fired at me, but you pushed yourself in front of me and the spell hit you in the back of the head. I think he said _Cerebro Quebrado! _or something like that, but all I remember was hearing a terrible crunching noise in mid-air, then your head crashed into my chest, and we both went flying off into space, so I held onto your shoulders because you were out-completely."

"You heard a crunching noise?" Ron asked, wincing, then shuddering at the words.

"From what Madam Pomfrey said, it was probably the bones in your skull-fracturing."  
Ginny said quietly. "I'm so sorry, Ron. It's one of the reasons I had to tell you-they hit you because they were aiming for me."

Ron looked as if he wasn't feeling especially well, but he looked her solidly in the eye when he spoke. "It _wasn't_ your fault. It was the bloody stinking Death Eaters'."

"But if I hadn't-"

"We were doing the best we could do to survive, Gin," Ron said. "That's all anyone can ask of themselves-and thank you. But that's the last time you'll apologize to me, understand? Is that where I got the slashes, too?

'No, that came later." Ginny was shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

"So what happened after that? Did you blast the git who got me, I hope?" Ron asked, looking as if he was really anxious to hear that she had.

Ginny glanced up at her brother and had to give in to a tiny smile at his eager expression. "Right in the face."

"Now I'm feeling better," Ron said, sitting back and letting out a great sigh.

"Luna must have been able to see what was going on and she stayed hidden, so the Death Eater that hit you didn't even see her. When I saw that he was following us to where we'd floated away, I pretended to be knocked out, too-until he came right up on us. And then-blam!-a Firestorm Hex, right in the kisser," she said quietly, but feeling rather proud of herself.

"A Firestorm Hex? Who taught you that? That's a sixth-year lesson!" Ron said suspiciously.

Ginny didn't want to get anyone in trouble-but then, this was Ron-she was probably safe. "Just because Fred and George have left school doesn't mean they've forgotten everything, you know. I was going to show everyone at the next DA meeting-and we did end up needing it."

Suddenly Ron's face broke into a wide grin. "Excellent, Gin! Couldn't have done better myself! So that took care of the Death Eaters, right? And then we got out?"

"It took care of _that_ Death Eater-I think I blasted him back to Mars-he looked like a comet all on his own with the fiery trail and all. But there were more coming."

"Bloody hell, how many were there?"

"Four-by our count at the end," Ginny said. "The one we pushed into the storm, the one I blasted in the face...But there were still two more, and we knew they were there even though we couldn't see them because we heard them shouting to each other after they saw all the blasts between us and the other Death Eaters."

The tension of recalling it all was getting to Ginny. She couldn't stay seated any more and stood, throwing her bag of Bertie Botts beans into the chair and beginning to pace back and forth in front of Ron's spot on the bed. At first she carried the glass of pumpkin juice along, but then she set it down on the bedside table; she wrung her hands as she spoke and wandered back and forth in the room.

"I dragged you back toward Luna. I didn't want to fire sparks and show the Death Eaters exactly where we were, but there was no other way to move you. You were awake and talking mad by then, so I knew you were in trouble. Once we met up, Luna and I dragged you between us, but we figured there was no way you could do magic well enough to perform the Relashio Charm, so things went a bit slower than planned with only the two of us. The two Death Eaters behind us almost caught up by the time we got to Pluto. In fact, one of them got close enough to grab my ankle and when I kept trying to kick him in the face, he twisted it so hard that I felt it break. Luna hit him with "Stupefy!", then she pulled you and I both back out of the way. She waited for them to move closer again, then she cast _Reducto Magnamus! _and blew up Pluto right in the one bloke's face! It was incredible, Ron! You'd never suppose Luna could blow up a planet..."

"So I was awake then? What was I doing-just floating along?" Ron said, irritable again.

"You had a skull fracture, Ron," Ginny explained exasperatedly. "You weren't in any condition to go playing the hero."

Ron's grim expression didn't change. "That's _all _I was doing?"

"Basically, just floating along, yes." Ginny wasn't about to bring up his blibbering topics of conversation or his giggling, not if she could get around it. "The fourth Death Eater was blasted away by the explosion, so we had a little bit of time, if nothing else. We kept moving outward past Pluto's orbit and finally we felt a wall, where we crawled along until we found a door handle. That's when we spilled through onto the floor of the room with all the doors. And that's where the others were."


	3. Sorting It Out

_A/N : Sorry for the extensive delay in getting this chapter to you. Here I thought it was already up--and the very slow Chapter 4 is on its way! *blushing in embarrassment!*  
Many, many thanks again to   
**Christina Teresa, Seakays**, and **sunshyndaisies,   
**who are all quite simply The Best!  
_  
  
~ Chapter 3 ~  
Sorting It Out  


  
  
Ginny stopped talking for a few minutes, but she hadn't stopped pacing. As she approached Ron's bedside table, she picked up the tall glass of pumpkin juice, noting that the thick liquid was nearly half gone. She lifted the glass to her lips and took a long draught anyway, sighing as she set the glass back down.   
  
The night was still warm, though the breeze helped. Still without a word, Ginny crossed to Ron's wide-open window and stood in front of it, absorbing the luscious feeling of the cool breeze caressing her body anywhere that wasn't covered by her camisole top and her summer skirt. The curtains fluttered around her and the wind blew through her hair, giving the appearance that she was flying.  
  
Ron had flopped onto his back on the bed, his sunburned body sprawled in listless acceptance that the sun had won. He stared at the ceiling and appeared to be giving rapt attention to the Cannons players soaring above his head, but Ginny knew that her brother's mind was working feverishly, trying to process all that she'd already told him about their rescue mission at the Department of Mysteries. She was also aware that he was trying to avoid staring at her and rushing her into telling more than she wanted to before she was ready to tell it.  
  
Soon his concern for her would push him to ask--she just knew it. You all right, Gin?  
  
Swinging around quickly, she responded, Yeah, I'm okay. Just needed to take a break.  
  
We can finish some other time, if you want, he said, though his voice held a tone that told her he really didn't want to wait.  
  
No, we'll finish. I said I'd tell you, and that's what I'm going to do, she said determinedly, plopping back into the squashy chair again. But there's not much more I can tell you first-hand--they're going to take me out of the picture in a minute. Then all I've got is what the others told me.  
  
So the others were already there in the room with all the doors... Ron prompted. What did they say when we dropped in' on them?  
  
They were surprised, obviously, Ginny said. Harry came running over first. She noticed this made Ron smile a bit. He started to ask if we were okay, but then you kind of fell forward and hung on him, telling him he looked all messed up. But he knew right away that something was very, very wrong with you. You were talking so madly...Harry told me afterwards there was blood running from the corner of your mouth--that it would make these little bubbles...  
  
Ron said, his skin a bit green-tinged under the freckles. Okay, I think I get the picture. He was quiet for a moment before speaking very tentatively. What did Hermione say when she saw me?  
  
  
  
Ron sighed in relief, apparently hoping Hermione hadn't been revolted. At least that's good.  
  
Ginny shook her head. No, it wasn't. Hermione had already been hit by Dolohov's curse by then. She was beyond talking.  
  
He looked concerned, even though Ginny knew he had been aware of Hermione's injuries during the time they'd spent together in the hospital wing. Perhaps he just hadn't envisioned her being _that _injured until now. She'd passed out or something? They were trying to help her walk?  
  
She was unconscious. Neville was carrying her over his shoulder.  
  
Ron acted as if he couldn't believe his ears.  
  
Yes, Neville, Ginny said pointedly. Even after his wand and his nose were broken--he was still trying to carry her out. Harry told me later that at first they thought Hermione was dead because she was so still after the spell hit her.  
  
Ron got very quiet then. He seemed to be having trouble making all of Ginny's information fit with the everyday personalities of the people he knew at Hogwarts. On the other hand, he could have been thinking about Hermione lying so still that she seemed dead.  
  
Then Harry asked what happened to you and me, but my ankle gave way when I tried to stand on it just then, and I couldn't answer him, Ginny said. So Luna told him that she thought my ankle was broken, but that she didn't know what they hit you with--just that you went all   
  
Ron asked. But all I did was talk to Harry a bit. What was so funny about that?  
  
Well you did bring up the stupid Uranus thing again, she said, sounding a bit disgusted. And you kept talking about how you'd seen Uranus up close and you thought it was so funny and you were-- Ginny stopped, realizing she'd almost gone too far. You were-- she knew Ron would notice if she didn't think of something fast, saying Harry looked all messed up--again. She blurted out the last few words very quickly.  
  
Ron narrowed his eyes at her. You were going to say something else.  
  
No, I wasn't, she lied.  
  
Yes, you were, Ron said knowingly. You've gone this far, Gin. Don't start lying to me now or leaving parts out. I was--_what?_  
  
Ginny took a deep breath and sighed. She knew what his response was going to be. You kept--giggling. Wincing, she waited for the explosion.  
  
Ron roared, sitting up straight and throwing his feet to the floor. I was _giggling? _At _what,_ for Merlin's sake? He stood rigidly and began walking about, apparently trying to make sense of it. Forgive me if I'm wrong, but there was nothing funny about any of that. Why the bloody hell was I _giggling? _Now Ron was the one pacing like a caged tiger.  
_  
_Ginny knew that would happen. She looked in exasperation at her hands in her lap. I don't know, Ron. We'll probably never know. You were sick--you had a skull fracture--we don't know what else by this time. You were pale as Sir Nicholas--there was blood coming from your mouth--you couldn't stand or walk alone, for Merlin's sake. Who_ knows_ why you were giggling? Anyway--  
  
So that's why Neville and Luna look at me so oddly sometimes, Ron said. And Hermione... She wasn't awake then, but I'm sure she's been told. He shook his head. That's just great, you know?  
  
Ron, you're being paranoid, Ginny assured. They know how badly hurt you were. It wasn't like you were doing it on purpose or because you really thought it was funny. They're your friends, Ron--they know.  
  
So Neville's playing the hero alongside Harry and I'm-- Ron closed his eyes against the thought. He stood that way for a moment, then opened his eyes, blinking several times before sitting down somberly on the edge of the bed once more.  
  
Might I remind you that you threw yourself in front of me, Mr. Hero--or don't I count? Ginny asked.  
  
Ron pressed his lips together and looked at her. Of course you count. Then he looked quietly into his lap a minute before throwing himself onto his back on the bed.  
  
Can I go on now? Ginny asked. Or do _you_ want to finish another time?  
  
Ron mused. Might as well give me all of it and get it over with. So everyone left in one piece had to help poor Ron...  
  
Oh, stop it, Ginny scolded. Neville was already carrying Hermione, Harry asked Luna to help me--I wanted to walk myself, but I couldn't--and Harry helped you. But we didn't have much time to think about it anyway, because a door flew open and three Death Eaters came at us in the hallway. Harry didn't know which door to try so he just went to the nearest one when they started firing Stunning Spells and threw you in, then he turned around to help get the rest of us in. He slammed the door against the Death Eaters, but we looked around and we were in the Brain Room again--with doors all around. So Luna and Neville tried to help Harry seal them all with _, _but the Death Eaters got through on one of Luna's doors and knocked her out, too.  
  
So now it was only you, Harry and Neville in your right minds against all of those Death Eaters? Ron asked in disbelief.  
  
I'm afraid so. But that didn't last long either, Ginny said. Although what happened next was very, very strange--and it was all your doing.  
  
Oh, here comes the brain-- Ron said in apparent disgust with himself.  
  
That Bellatrix woman and four other Death Eaters had just come running into the room; we were sure they were going to start firing Stunning Spells. I had my wand ready, even though I was sitting on the floor because of my ankle, but I wasn't about to let them do whatever they wanted to us. Harry and Neville were ready as well, and Harry was still holding the prophecy in front of him, hoping that they'd just go after him instead of all of us. Then you stood up and started talking about how weird the brains were.  
  
Ron slapped a hand over his eyes in frustration. So who had to save me this time?  
  
No one, Ginny replied. It was so strange. You staggered over to the brain tank and--I don't even know how you did it--I mean, the Summoning Charm is a very difficult spell to perform. You didn't know where you were or that you were in danger, you could barely walk, you were bleeding and pale and talking nonsense--and you walked right over to the Brain Tank and cast_ Accio Brain!_ perfectly--_perfectly! _None of us could believe that you could do magic so well when you were so--hurt.  
  
Ron was a little happier at that. Wish I could have been there to see it.  
  
Very funny. But then everything seemed to stop. Even the Death Eaters stopped to see what would happen--they didn't even fire on us. Everyone awake in that room was watching that brain fly up from the tank and start to unwind these long sort of ribbons from underneath it. Harry yelled at you not to touch it, but you walked right up to it and it started wrapping those ribbons around you.  
  
The slashes--that's where the slashes came from, Ron said.  
  
Exactly. First they covered your arms, then your chest. Harry was doing spells, trying to cut through the ribbons, but it didn't work. The last thing I remember is yelling at Harry to save you because the brain was going to suffocate you.  
  
Ron looked up and into her eyes for a moment. That's when they hit you with the Stunner?  
  
Yeah--I don't remember it being too painful, Ginny admitted. Actually I don't remember feeling anything at all until I woke up in the hospital wing. But when they hit me it left only Harry and Neville to fight five Death Eaters in that room and however many more elsewhere. Neville told me that Harry decided to run for it with the prophecy, hoping that if he took it with him, the Death Eaters would follow and leave us alone. And from what Neville said, they did follow him into the Death Room. Neville saw that you were managing to fight your own way out of the brain tentacles', enough that he thought you'd be all right, and since the Death Eaters were gone from the rest of us, he decided Harry needed his help worse than we did. So he followed Harry into the room, too.  
  
That must be where the Order found them--because as good as Harry is at dueling, I still don't see how he and Neville could have fought off nine or ten Death Eaters alone, Ron said, shaking his head a little.  
  
Yeah, that was when the Order members came, but not before Bellatrix cast the Cruciatus on Neville for a bit. Ginny noticed that Ron flinched at that. Harry said Neville yelled to him not to let them have the prophecy no matter what. Then in the midst of the spells flying all over and ducking and moving, the Death Eaters cast the Tarantallegra Charm on Neville. Harry had a terrible time trying to get Neville out and in the middle of it all, Harry's prophecy was smashed.  
  
Ron looked as if he remembered something. Neville told us once that Harry's prophecy was destroyed in the battle, but just then Madam Pomfrey came in and scolded him for not letting us rest. She was chasing him away because of me, even though she didn't say so--and that was the only thing he'd told us. Ron was quiet for a moment. Harry never did tell me if he knew what the prophecy said, though.  
  
It's too hard for him, Ron--because it was right after that that Dumbledore came and took everything into his own hands, but not before-- Ginny looked down into her lap sadly.  
  
Ron sighed, looking away from his sister to give her emotional space, blinking especially quickly himself. Did they tell you how it happened?  
  
Ginny nodded slowly and began to speak in a flat voice. There was a stone archway with a black veil in the Death Room. You were walking around it once the first time we were in there. Neville said Sirius and Bellatrix Lestrange were dueling--they didn't stop, even when Dumbledore came. Sirius was even laughing--taunting her--and then she hit him in the chest with a spell...It struck him so hard that he only just realized before he fell through the archway that she'd won. Then-- he was simply--gone.  
  
Poor Harry, Ron muttered.  
  
Apparently Harry tried to get his revenge on her for taking Sirius, Ginny said. Neville said Harry was screaming at her and he ran into the Atrium to find her. That's where Voldemort appeared and the big duel between he and Dumbledore took place.  
  
Ginny felt absolutely worn out. The actual telling of the tale was nothing compared to carrying the emotional weight of almost living through the whole ordeal again. It was only a little less harrowing than going through it the first time, except that she didn't have to be concerned about the physical danger--and this time, she could be comforted by the fact that she knew all but one of them had made it out alive.  
  
She had watched Ron with concern most of the time she was recounting the events of that night. A bit fearful that he might have some reaction after his run-in with the brain, she was also worried that his thought patterns would suddenly do something strange. Though she realized she might end up in trouble for telling him, she felt better now that he knew. She could also tell he was far from satisfied with what his role in the whole rescue mission had been--_but then,_ she thought,_ we don't always get to choose what part we'll play.  
  
_The two siblings sat in silence for some time, feeling the new freshness of the late-evening breeze whooshing through the windows as it ruffled their hair and cooled their skin.  
  
Poor Harry, Ron finally repeated quietly. He went through all of that --now he's stuck with the stupid Muggles again for the summer. I need to let him know I know.  
  
Hmm, I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Ginny said. I mean, I'm sure he wants to hear from you--but regular stuff. Remember how Madam Pomfrey said it would take a long time for thoughts to heal? Think how long it takes for feelings to heal--especially feelings that run that deep. I know he wasn't talking much at the end of the year, but that was his choice and everyone respected it. He probably needs to leave it alone right now--the Dursleys don't know a thing about what happened in the DoM and he'll have time to get better. But when he finally does start talking, you know you'll be the first one he goes to.  
  
Ron sat silent for a minute. Yeah. Hope so. I mean, I feel like I wasn't there for him...  
  
He knows why, Ron--and he doesn't want you hurt more.  
  
Yeah, but knowing the reason you _can't_ talk to someone is different than feeling you _can_ tell someone if you need to, Ron said sadly.  
  
It was silent in the room for several minutes.   
  
I'll owl him tomorrow, Ron said quietly. He reached over to the bedside table and picked up the nearly-empty pumpkin juice glass. Ginny could tell he was making an effort to lighten the mood--that was Ron for you. You drank it all, Gin! It's a long walk down to the kitchen, you know. Surely you're going down to get me more.  
  
In your dreams, brother dear, Ginny said, standing. Because that's where I'm going--to _my_ dreams. She threw him the almost-empty bag of Bertie Botts. And here--I've left you all the dreadful ones.  
  
Yum, the best part, Ron said, trying to force a small grin. She could feel his eyes on her back as she walked to the door to go.  
  
he said softly.  
  
She stopped at the threshold and turned sleepily his way.   
  
Thank you-- he said sincerely, --for telling me. I owe you one--a big one.  
  
She gave him a weak, tired little smile. No, you don't. That's just-- the way we are. Ginny turned to leave again, then swung back around on him. But if your brain explodes in the night or something, I know _nothing.  
  
_Ron scrunched his face at the thought, then shook his head, smiling. He waved her out of the door and she was more than grateful.  
  
Her feet feeling like lead, Ginny was afraid she might not make it down the stairs and to her bed before she fell fast asleep on them. But she did-- only just.  
  


~~~***~~~  
  


Cleaning the closet today, Gin? Ron asked as he dried and shoved the last of the breakfast dishes into the cupboard. He picked up the wet dishtowel and whirled it by its corner, helicopter-fashion, over his head. As he let go, the dishtowel flew across the room, hit the drying rack without hooking on, and promptly fell into the dustbin below--along with his mother's apron and most of the clean pot holders that had been stored on the rack as well.  
  
Ron's eyes went wide. Damn! It worked yesterday. He rushed to the dustbin to rescue everything before his mother wandered in.  
  
Ginny laughed uproariously from where she stood poised to head into the living room. Well done! she said between peals of laughter. But look, you left _one_ pot holder up there!  
  
Shut up, Gin! Ron hissed, trying to shake off bits of egg and bacon from the apron before clumsily hanging it back on the rack next to the salvaged towel. Trying to grab all of the pot holders in the wastebin all at once, he muttered before peeling one of them from his now jam-covered hand. At least I'm going to get out of working on the garden fence. Just you wait.  
  
I'm sure you are, Ginny said sarcastically. What flimsy excuse are you using today? And... she tilted her head,   
  
Perking his ears just in case, Ron heard the creaking of the wooden stairs--and he knew just who it would be coming down. Muttering expletives under his breath, Ron rushed to the laundry bin to quickly toss in the one sticky pot holder, thought better of it, retrieved and tossed them all in, then hurried to the sink to wash off his hand. You'll see.  
  
Ginny studied the rather empty drying rack by her side, then smiled at her brother. You'd better hope _she_ doesn't.  
  
Ron wiped his wet hand on his shirt, walked to Ginny and turned her around by the shoulders, then pushed her into the living room to meet their mum before she made it to the kitchen.  
  
All right, Molly Weasley started, walking up to her two youngest children and setting down a few empty boxes on the floor. Done with breakfast and ready for a good day's work, right?  
  
Both of them nodded without much enthusiasm.  
  
Ginny, these boxes are for you, Mrs. Weasley explained. I'm quite sure you may find one or two things in the closet that belong elsewhere in the house. Pack them in here and distribute them where they belong once you're done rearranging everything in the closet.  
  
Better hope you don't run across a dead puffskein or two, Ron whispered to Ginny. Fred and George never did find that last one of mine--poor thing.   
  
She wrinkled her nose and fired an evil look at him.  
  
--And Ron--you're nailing the garden fence today, right? Mrs. Weasley asked as she turned toward the kitchen, though Ron thought it was kind of silly to ask when she only expected to hear one certain answer.  
  
But this time she wasn't going to get it. Erm, no.  
  
Ginny turned to look at him in shock, just before it registered with Molly what Ron had said.  
  
_Be ready for the look, Weasley, be ready. Don't let her get to you--you have a good reason--you do. Bloody hell, here it comes!  
  
_Mrs. Weasley whipped her head around, hands on her hips, and fixed a stare on Ron that would have frightened an angry Hippogriff. she snapped.  
  
Ron winced, but kept his eyes leveled on hers. Erm, no? _Hold your voice steady, you prat. _He noticed that Ginny was watching this event with amused interest.   
_  
_And why, may I ask, _not? _Molly questioned.  
  
Look, Mum, yesterday I was out in the sun almost all day de-gnoming the garden, Ron explained. I tried a Non-Solarburn Charm, but you know they never work on me--well, on any of us really. If I'm out in the sun again all day today...and the scars...  
  
Let's have a look at you, then. Molly took a deep breath and sauntered up to Ron, inspecting any exposed skin from head to toe beyond his shorts, trainers, and undershirt. Waggling her finger in circles in the air to indicate he should turn, he obliged to show that he was quite pink and toasty on all sides. Mrs. Weasley grabbed one of Ron's wrists and held his arm up to the light to check the thought scars. She was much too quiet for Ron's taste for several minutes, then she tapped her forefinger on her chin. Well, Poppy did say it takes a while for those to heal. Perhaps too much sun wouldn't be good for them.  
  
Ron and Ginny both waited with bated breath for the decision: Ginny because she apparently couldn't believe that Ron might actually get away with this, and Ron, because he had other things planned if he didn't have to work today.  
  
All right, then, Mrs. Weasley said slowly, causing Ginny's lip to curl in anger as she turned toward Ron, and Ron to grin like a man reprieved.  
  
All right, then, Ron repeated, sighing in relief. Thank you, Mum. He stepped off, heading toward the stairs and his room.  
  
Mrs. Weasley said, where do you think you're going?  
  
Ron stopped and turned in confusion. Well, you just said--  
  
I just _said--_ Molly interrupted, that you don't have to work in the sun today. But we've got plenty of work in the shade as well. She seemed to consider something before making the last statement. You can clean out your father's shed.  
  
He almost laughed--almost. That tiny--I mean-- erm, okay. _Yes!! I'll be done in two hours, tops! _He was trying not to let his exuberance show through to his mum, but when she turned to walk away from him, he made a victorious told you so face at his sister.  
  
Come along, Ron, his mother urged.  
  
Ginny sneered at him and picked up one of the empty boxes, then headed irritably for the closet.  
  
Oh, yes, and you'll need your wand. Quickly, please, Mrs. Weasley added.  
  
Although that was an unexpected request from his mum and he momentarily wondered why he would need it, Ron turned to take the stairs two at a time and climb to his room. He grabbed his wand from the bedside table._ Get this over with, get out of the heat, and get back to doing something I want to do--yes!_  
  
Ron followed his mother outside to the rickety little shed the Weasley children had always suspected was once an extra chicken coop. In order to appease her husband and his voracious appetite for collecting anything Muggle, Molly had assured him that she would allow him to keep anything and everything he could fit in that shed. As long as they kept their arms down, two people could stand next to one another inside when the shed was empty, but that was about all. _Even if the thing was filled to the top, _Ron thought, _how long could it take to organize it all? Ha--I'll be writing to Harry by lunchtime! If only I could owl Hermione in Bermuda...But then there's that new broom catalog we got in Diagon Alley...and the Quidditch team draft on the wireless...  
  
_I hadn't planned on having either one of you start on this until we saw how much time we had left before going to Headquarters, Molly said. But once we start, we may as well have you work on it until it's done. Your father's been meaning to start on it for some time, but what with his double shifts between the Ministry and the Order... Well, at least the sun won't get to you.  
  
Ron was having trouble trying not to snigger. _What the **hell **was the woman talking about? _Even his tiny little closet in his room was bigger than this.   
  
As Mrs. Weasley uttered _Alohomora!_ Ron wondered why his mum had even insisted on bringing him out here herself. The latch lifted, the lock flipped open, and both narrow little doors swung wide, revealing...an empty shed.  
  
Ron stared at the bare floorboards and couldn't help but let a large grin escape. Ha!--I mean, he must have cleaned it out himself.  
  
Molly Weasley gazed at her son with something bordering on sympathy. No, dear. No, he hasn't. Come along. She stepped inside the shed and gestured for him to move into the spot at her side.  
  
Ron furrowed his brow in confusion, but ducked under the doorway and squeezed his tall frame into the space next to his mother, managing to take up nearly all of the room that was left.  
  
Once the doors were closed, Mrs. Weasley wriggled around to face the back of the shed. Look this way, Ron.  
  
Having to tilt his wide shoulders at a number of different angles to get them turned one hundred and eighty degrees, Ron was finally able to watch what his mother was doing.   
  
It's the third knothole down, second board from the right-- just above your knee, I'll wager. Molly squirmed until she could get her arm into position, then cast the spell.   
_Alohamora Volumino!_  
  
Ron felt the back shed wall in front of him tremble and quake, presently falling to the ground to become a floor, but as it hit, walls sprang up on both sides, with a ceiling overhead.  
  
Ron let out a low hiss. Wizard space, he said dejectedly. But he still didn't see anything to organize.  
  
Drat this thing! his mother complained, preoccupied with something at her side. It's forever getting _stuck!  
  
_Molly Weasley wriggled and pulled, acting as if she was prying something open on the side wall corner of the shed. She uttered another spell under her breath and yanked her wand up suddenly.   
  
Ron looked straight ahead, and stood dumbfounded, his jaw slack. The back wall of the shed had picked itself up and was flipping itself over and over, five, ten, fifteen times, creating another room of wizard space each time it flipped. By the time it stopped there was an enormous hallway some thirty meters long and as wide as the shed, filled to the brim with a number of electrical appliances and miscellaneous objects.  
  
Ron mouthed the word, but he couldn't get anything else to come out.   
  
Molly looked at her son, actually appearing a bit worried at his response. Are you all right, dear? Just hold tight--lean on me if you feel light-headed.  
  
Ron murmured. Just then, the side walls of the shed started to tremble and shake as well. They fell to the ground and tumbled over and over on both sides away from Molly and Ron, expanding the width of the entire hallway to thirty meters as well. There were tables and shelves everywhere, filled with one of anything and everything electrical or motorized that was ever created.   
  
Ron thought he was going to be sick. His head was spinning; he slumped back against the now-closed doors behind him; he placed a hand on his mum's shoulder to steady himself, grabbing at his middle and leaning over. If only he was asleep and this was a nightmare from something he ate--perhaps he could retch to get rid of it and the whole thing would disappear. But he looked around himself again--yep, he was awake--and the retching would only serve to lose him his breakfast.  
  
he croaked out.  
  
It all started when Ginny left for Hogwarts, his mother began. Your father--well, both your father and I were rather at odds with ourselves for a while. You see, you come to get used to things in life, and we had both been so very, very used to all of you being here. Of course, it first began when Bill left for Hogwarts and later for Egypt. We were proud of him, but we had the rest of you to deal with when he was gone--and though we missed Bill desperately, we simply kept busy and went on. Then came Charlie, and we had to adapt all over again, then the others followed. Eventually, you were old enough to go to Hogwarts and Ginny spent a very, very lonely year, the poor dear. But the day we waved goodbye to Ginny on the Hogwarts Express, our lives were changed forever. Of course, we were very, very proud and happy for all of you, but the Burrow--home-- was deathly quiet and so empty. I would find myself working outside in the garden day after day because I could hear sounds all around me there and could almost convince myself that all of you were inside the house. But once I went inside, I had to face the quiet again; it was very difficult for a while.  
  
Molly shifted to look back and make sure the door behind them was still locked. And your father... I would find him mooning around the house, staring at the pictures of all of you on the walls, waving a bit when he thought I wasn't looking. He refused to turn the wireless off, even at night--he needed some noise in the background. One day he brought home a Muggle--erm, radio, is it?-- from work and took it apart. Of course, he had no clue how to put it back together, but it didn't matter--it was a night he didn't have to think about how much he missed all of you. The next night he brought home a toaster, and he fiddled with that until bedtime. It wasn't his family, but it was something he enjoyed doing and kept him occupied, and I would sit and knit and we'd chat--and we'd make it through the long and silent nights that way. He kept bringing home more and more--and I didn't have the heart to tell him not to.  
  
So that was when I gave him the shed, Molly continued. The house was already cluttered with all of his Muggle toys and you were all coming home for Christmas, so I told him he could keep whatever he could fit in the shed. I figured how bad could that be?' But leave it to your father to find the loophole. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out how he was getting rid of as many things as he was bringing _in,_ when I never saw them go. The night after Percy left, the two of us needed some privacy to talk, so he brought me here with chairs and we talked right here where you and I are standing now. Then afterwards, he broke down and showed me all of the wizard space he'd made and how much he'd collected. He didn't realize it had gotten so out of hand. I felt kind of sick, actually, probably a lot like you do right now--until I realized...  
  
Realized what, Mum? Ron had managed to bring himself around a bit while he listened.  
  
Look around at how many _things_ are in here.   
  
He scanned the enormity of the space with his eyes, a virtual field of appliances and knickknacks and motors and plugs, piled from floor to ceiling at some points with so many things he knew he wasn't even seeing them all.  
  
This is what he used to fill in for the love of all of you until he could have you home with him again, whenever that might be. He knows it's not the same, but it passes the time until you're back--it helps fill up the silence. He wants so badly to let you all move on to live your own lives, but he doesn't know how to end his pain, she said, tears filling her eyes. All of this to fill the emptiness--the hole in his heart when you're all gone --and still it wasn't enough one day. The night Percy left he realized that: there would never be enough _things_ in the world to keep him busy enough to hold off feeling the loss of even one of you. He knows that now--and believe me when I tell you how strongly he respects that love.   
  
Ron blinked several times before saying anything. He hadn't been expecting anything like this. First, the enormity of the place overwhelmed him, then the enormity of the job. But after his mum's explanation, the enormity of the emotions overwhelmed him, too. He'd never thought of his father doing that--he'd actually thought it might be kind of relaxing for his parents once he and Ginny were gone. Little did he know there was the torture of emptiness and silence involved--but now he did.  
  
And you want me to... Ron gulped and looked at his mum.  
  
Oh, would you, Ron? Molly pleaded. Your father knows he can't keep all of this. But he's so very attached to some of it that I can't ask him to get rid of it all. Like he remembers learning to repair some certain wall socket the night you owled to say you'd made the Gryffindor Quidditch team. It's here somewhere. There's some other preposterous lighting thing that reminds him of the day Ginny was sorted into Gryffindor. He remembers pieces of his life this way. If only you could sort it out--then he can find those few things he truly wants to keep...  
  
Sort it out? Ron asked tentatively, visually scanning the room around him.  
  
But it's not all that bad, dear--it's not, Molly assured. The space is magically insulated from the Ministry--at least he claims it is, and I suppose they would have been here long before this if it wasn't. I know you're not supposed to do serious underage magic outside of Hogwarts-- and ordinarily I wouldn't approve of you doing anything of the sort--yet there's no one else to do this for him--for us. He _will_ get caught if he tries to keep all of this--and I don't want him to have to lose it all and perhaps lose his job besides--  
  
I can use magic? Ron asked. He could hardly believe he was listening to his own mum saying these things.  
  
I don't honestly see how anyone could do it without, Molly said.  
  
Ron felt her eyes on him. He looked at the massive room and took a deep breath. He counted eleven of what his dad had told him were machines to make toast in a five meter radius alone. Then he looked back down into his mother's face.  
  
I'll try, Mum, he said quietly.  
  
Mrs. Weasley threw her arms completely around her son's middle, clinging to him for a moment while he patted at her forearm, since that was the farthest he could reach out from under her grip. Thank you, Ron, she said sincerely.  
  
But I don't know if I can get it all done, Ron said. I mean... He gestured helplessly toward the expanse of room. And what about when Hermione comes?  
  
Oh, she'd be welcome to use magic and help out as well. I don't think she'd mind, Molly said. Besides, from what you and Harry tell me, I'm sure she'd be happy to get in the extra practice.  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. I'm sure she would, although trust me, she doesn't need it. But Mum, I didn't plan on working the _entire_ time she was here.  
  
Well, she won't be coming for several weeks anyway. Think how much you can get done by then. Mrs. Weasley patted his arm and moved toward the front of the shed, setting off to leave and let herself out.  
  
Raising his eyebrows, Ron looked around him and sighed, wondering how in the world to start the impossible. Then he groaned aloud to no one.   
  
Ginny was going to think this was hilarious.  
  



	4. If Hogs Could Fly

_A/N: Loads of thanks once more to my talented and amazing betas **ChristinaTeresa, Seakays**, and **sunshyndaisies**!  
_  
  
~ Chapter 4 ~  
If Hogs Could Fly  


  
_  
Accio Diminutivus!  
  
_Ron looked into the enormous shed room from his position near the wall; he waiting for anything small to move. Nothing did, except for the group of springs that rolled off the table and bounced onto the floor when he walked by.  
  
All right, then. I'll live dangerously. _ Accio Grandiosos! _Ron got ready to duck in case any of the things encased in large metal boxes came flying at him, or any other oversized objects that were dangerously sharp or jagged.  
  
Apparently, he needn't have worried. Nothing moved, or even looked as if it intended to move, aside from some of the tables leaning shakily under the weight of their loads.  
  
Ron yelled as he grabbed the sides of his hair with his hands and pulled, as if that would help. _She didn't tell me it would be like this, now did she? None of these bloody stupid Muggle things are in the least bit magical or have the sense to know when they're being called. And you don't even know the names for most of them, Weasley! How do you get yourself into these things?  
  
_He threw himself against the wall and leaned his head on his arm, thinking about how in the world he could get this done._ May as well try for lightning speed too, thank you, while we're wishing for the impossible, _he thought.  
  
A tapping on the door of the shed brought him out of his reverie. He walked to the doors and for a moment thought of what his mother had said, that she was surprised the Ministry hadn't been there already. _Nah--couldn't be._  
  
Is that you, Mum? Ron asked cautiously. There was no answer. Still no answer, but more tapping. Nothing.  
  
Ron stepped back to retrieve his wand just in case...then the tapping came again. But this time when he moved close to the doors he could feel and hear the air being forced through the worn and dilapidated shed walls from a set of powerful wings. Anxiously he mutteredand shoved the doors open, stepping through them and looking around.   
  
Above and behind him on the roof of the shed had just landed a beautiful and familiar snowy owl that chittered cheerfully when she saw him. Hedwig! Hey, it's good to see you, too! How's Harry? Hedwig leaned back to offer the large envelope from her leg, which Ron carefully untied. Bet this tells me, doesn't it? Head up to the house now and get yourself something to eat. Mum had out some raw liver this morning to cook for dinner. Between you and me--if you get to it first, I'd be grateful.   
  
Hedwig gave a pleased chitter in response and crouched to take wing. Ron watched her fly to the kitchen window, then looked down to tear open the envelope in his hand.  
  
_So Harry beat me to it and wrote me first..._Withdrawing a folded sheet, Ron noticed there was another sealed envelope still inside the bigger one. But he recognized Harry's handwriting immediately on the page in front of him, so he decided to start with that one.  
  
_Dear Ron,  
  
How is your summer going? Enjoying the heat? I'll bet you're just lolling about that pond of yours, being lazy and ordering Ginny about to get your food and drinks. Haha._  
  
Yeah, that's a haha all right, Harry, Ron muttered under his breath, on all counts. He continued reading.  
  
_The Muggles are treating me all right, though a bit strangely from the way things were before. Aunt Petunia acts as if I'm going to break into pieces or something, but she (weirdly!) keeps telling Uncle Vernon that I belong here. Heck, I don't even think I really belong here, so what's up with her? Dudley's pretty funny, though. He has to act all tough with his gang, but when they see me out walking or something, he gets all in a panic and starts looking behind him--you won't see old Dudders in any alleyways this summer, believe me.  
  
As you can see, they've allowed me to owl my friends after their discussion' with everyone at King's Cross, and Uncle Vernon even said how much better-behaved Hedwig is this summer. Imagine that._  
  
Ron laughed at a rather unbecoming drawing in the margin of a smiling and unknowing Uncle Vernon with Hedwig poised to peck at his ear.  
  
_Hermione sent your letter with mine from that island where she is because she had to send it by Muggle post-- I reckon she thought the dentists wouldn't take kindly to an owl or two at their convention. It sounds like she's reading a lot of books (surprise!) on animal rights stuff. She said you'd tell me why. Trying your animal magnetism out on her or what?_   
  
Ron smiled and rolled his eyes, but he could feel his ears burning. I'll get you for that, Harry. Just you wait, he mumbled.  
  
_The Muggles are calling me to help with dinner now, so I reckon I'd better sign off. Write back when you can.  
  
Harry  
_  
The sun beating down on him finally forced Ron back into the shade of the shed, where he kicked a few things about until he found something very heavy and boxy that was made of metal. He didn't know what it was, though he knew it certainly wasn't a chair, but that was what it was going to be today. So he sat down to re-read Harry's letter.  
  
Ron noticed there was no mention of anything having to do with the Department of Mysteries or Sirius. Perhaps Ginny had been right--maybe Harry did need a break from people who knew everything that happened that night. The whole letter sounded pretty much like the same old Harry. But then, up until this past year his friend had been very good at hiding what he felt--maybe Harry just hadn't got as badly out of practice in hiding his emotions as Ron and Hermione had thought.  
  
After he was done reading it for the second time, Ron folded the page and then pushed it into the bigger envelope, grabbing the smaller sealed envelope while his hand was still inside. He let the outer envelope fall beside him while he looked at the outside of Hermione's letter.  
  
Her handwriting was always so perfect with each letter formed the same way every single time. It always amazed him to see his name written in her neat cursive, but up until fourth year it hadn't given him butterflies in his stomach just from looking at it. He wondered if perchance her name in his handwriting gave her butterflies, too.  
  
_What in Merlin's name are you saying, Weasley? That messy writing? She probably can't even understand what it says. Hmmm, it either says Dear Hermione or Dead Hippocampi--wonder which Ron meant?' Give her butterflies? Fat chance!  
_  
With her presumed feelings about his handwriting behind him, Ron traced the letters of his name on the envelope with the tip of his finger. She had touched all of those places after all--not so long ago, either. It felt rather wicked to brazenly do this without worrying about prying eyes, and without being concerned that someone might think him mental for doing it. He usually reserved such private rituals as re-reading letters for just before he went to sleep...unless Harry was staying over, of course.   
  
The warm heavy air carried a scent to his nostrils. A flash of hope blazed across his mind and heart--perfume? Familiar perfume? _Unusual_ perfume--please, please! He lifted the as yet-unopened envelope to his nose, and his hopes were quickly dashed. It wasn't even perfume, but that awful Muggle Suntan Potion that she sometimes wore on her nose for Care of Magical Creatures class. Well, at least she used to--until she learned the charm for the same, of course.   
  
Ron looked beyond the unopened envelope to the pink, angry-looking skin on his legs and groaned. _ Bloody hell, she's going to show up here all tanned and beautiful, her hair full of lights, and I'm going to be either red as a lobster or flaking worse than one of Dobby's pastries. _  
  
Then his gaze landed on his arms. She knew the scars were there, of course. Madam Pomfrey had had the good sense to place the two of them next to each other in the hospital wing, which to Ron was both a curse and a blessing. The curse of it was the fact that Hermione had seen the thought scars and how ugly and disfiguring they were. Dr. Ubbly's Unctious Unction had to be applied frequently and left to breathe. So there he had to sit, a cloth covering his chest down to the blankets at his waist, but his shoulders and his arms were bared to the air with musty-smelling greenish-gray potion dabbed in patches over the nasty red slashes. What an appealing picture he must have made! _No wonder she acts like she just wants to stay friends--I reckon even the mountain troll was better-looking on his good days.  
  
_Hermione also behaved as if she was self-conscious of her appearance once or twice while the two of them were necessarily living so close together-- but he couldn't imagine why. True, she'd started out pale and delicate-looking just after the injury, but he thrilled to see the return of the glow in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes. He was perfectly happy to be right next to Hermione every day, making sure she was all right, watching her heal, talking and making her laugh--that was the best part. Ron knew that was the way he could help her most.  
  
But --oooh, if he could only get his hands on that Dolohov bloke! No matter what kind of accomplished Death Eater he fashioned himself, Ron fashioned himself the bloke to rip Dolohov apart after he'd nearly taken Hermione from the world--their Hermione--his Hermione. _No, you don't dare think of her as that --you know she's no more than a friend--but damn, she might have been more if only it had been **you **who had been able to rescue her from the Department of Mysteries._  
  
While he'd been working at getting the smaller items off of the floor and onto tables earlier this morning, he'd been thinking..._He_ would have carried Hermione out of danger if he'd had the chance. _He_ would have shot down Dolohov, or at the very least thrown himself in front of her. _He_ was supposed to be her hero and take care of her and make sure she was safe. Not Neville.  
  
And it was nearly as bad with Harry! _He_ was Harry Potter's best friend--everyone knew that. Harry knew Ron would be there for him to the end, too; he'd proven it before. Why did things have to turn out this way?  
  
When was fate ever going to give him a break? The Quidditch championship? True, that was wicked. Becoming prefect? He was honored. But he could be a hero when it _really_ counted; he knew it in his heart. Yet fate made him leave those he loved at the mercy of the Death Eaters. _ And where was I when they needed me most? Out of my mind and giggling, for Merlin's sake, while Neville--stupid Neville--picked up my slack as Hermione's hero and Harry's most loyal mate.  
_  
Suddenly a searing pain shot through Ron's head and he grabbed it with both hands, dropping Hermione's letter to the floor. It felt as if someone had tied a rope through both arms and then through his brain, pulling it all taut in the end. He forced his eyes open and the somewhat dingy light of the wizard space glared into his head as brightly as if he was staring at the sun. When the light dimmed enough for him to see, his vision told him the ground was tilting as if he were on board some ship, but he was perfectly aware that he wasn't moving.  
  
Taking deep gulps of air, Ron felt the pain start to subside a little. The pulling feeling in his arms eased and his vision came into sharp focus again. The floor decided to stay put. And different thoughts poured into his brain.  
  
_Listen to yourself, Weasley. What a whiner. Be a man about it. Neville did what he had to do because he was the only one there to do it; you ought to be thanking him. He did everything you would have done for Harry and Hermione at a time when you--couldn't. Who knows how things might have turned out if he hadn't stepped in?_  
  
Once he could uncurl his cringing body, Ron stood and stretched his legs and arms. Nothing like that had ever happened to him before and he certainly hoped it wouldn't   
happen again. For some reason it left a tingling feeling in the skin on his arms. He started to step away when he looked down and saw Hermione's letter on the floor. Bending to retrieve it, he decided to save it for later and carefully placed it back into the larger envelope with Harry's. Things to look forward to during a summer like this were few and far between--he thought he'd better spread them out a bit.  
  
As he wandered through the rear of the room, he was thinking about what type of spell might work to get this mess organized. _ Maybe first _Wingardium Leviosa,_ then move the things into place and reverse it--then I could direct them into groups by alphabetical order. With the larger things? Mobilicorpus? No, no bodies. Mobiliarbus? No trees. Hmmm... Mobilithingus...hell, why not?  
  
_Ron pulled the wand from his back pocket and pointed it at a small black metal box by the back wall with two buttons on the front. Nothing happened. Even after a break, this was getting old very quickly-- but then, what did he expect of some made-up spell? _I give up for today--maybe I can figure this out tomorrow. _Ron sighed, mumbled to turn out the lights at the very back of the space, and turned to go, staring down at the floor as he walked in deep thought. His wand hand remained raised as he considered which spells might work.  
  
Suddenly something loomed huge and dark right in front of him. Ron gasped in spite of himself and his head snapped up as he tried to decide what in the world it was. His eyes tried to focus in the semi-darkness as he stared at the thing silhouetted against the distant bright light pouring in from the battered boards comprising the front of the shed. His heart was pounding, his breath quickened.  
  
It was the size of a very large bear, completely covered in a heavy cloth of some sort. The thing was hanging in the air about four feet from the ground and swung a bit as he watched. He listened for it to make a noise, but he could hear nothing. There was no sign of what it looked like under the cloth. Ron was uncertain what to do. Was it the ghoul? He didn't usually stray from his attic--but perhaps he'd invited relatives for the summer. Was it some kind of strange boggart?  
  
Realizing his wand was still in the air, Ron decided he ought to try and disable the thing first. _Petrificus Totallus! _he said, pointing his wand at the thing.Nothing happened. No noise, no final movement, nothing. It didn't even fall to the floor. Ron was confused.  
  
__ he said loudly. But nothing happened with that one either. Could that possibly mean that it wasn't anything alive? Ron inched his way toward the thing, holding his wand at the ready. Still the thing didn't make a move. So Ron took the next logical step.  
  
He poked it.  
  
Stabbing at the thing with his wand, he found that it was hard. It didn't growl back at him or squeal or even move much. If he jabbed his wand in a certain place, it made a sort of dull . After poking at it in a number of different places without any response, he decided to be brave--and yank off the cloth covering. He eased up to the thing and carefully grabbed a handful of the cloth, whipping it straight back with his wand at the ready.  
  
he chooked out quickly.  
  
As he dropped the now-empty cloth behind him, he stood staring in awe.   
  
The suspended thing was a motorbike--a very large motorbike--and it had once been a very expensive one.Ron smiled to himself. _Oh, Dad! You are one hell of a con man! You had to work really hard to sneak **this **one out of the Ministry office!   
  
_Although it looked as if the motorbike had once been some type of deluxe model from all of the googaws and gadgets attached, it was in terrible disrepair. Nearly every inch of the thing was rusted and the cables were covered in some kind of smooth coating that was cracked with chunks missing. Crumbly stuffing fluffed out from the torn and tattered seat and the tires were squishy when he touched them (he knew from his father using the Ministry cars that this was bad). The headlight and some clock-looking things on the front were broken and unmoving.  
  
_But wait a minute....What made it take to the air like that? _From all Harry had told him, Muggle motorbikes were ground vehicles--they couldn't fly like airplanes. Ron thought backwards through all of his steps of the last few minutes. Suddenly the furrow left his brow and a look of wonderment came upon him.   
  
Hold on! he said aloud. he said and pointed his wand at the motorbike, sweeping his wand very slowly to the right.   
  
The motorbike shimmied a bit to start, but silently moved in accordance with Ron's wand, very slowly floating in a sweeping arc toward the wall.  
  
said an excited Ron. This is no Muggle motorbike! It _knows_ it's magical!  
  
Ron had no idea how to operate the thing or he probably would have tried right there and then. Instead, he decided to go to the one person who could tell him more--_if_ he was home yet. But he couldn't just leave it hanging there. He pointed his wand--_what would be the right ending for that spell? Descendo Motorbikus? No...  
  
_All at once Ron remembered that Harry had brought a motorbike magazine back to number twelve, Grimmauld Place last summer. Harry had taken very good care of the magazine, confiding in Ron that Mr. Weasley had given it to him because of something to do with Sirius. Ron's eyes widened at the thought--_Harry had told him Sirius once had a motorbike _ --_surely this couldn't be--?  
  
_Well, even if it was, which he realized was a very long shot, that was no reason to leave it hanging here like this. If it fell, it could do some serious damage--or fall to bits itself. What did that magazine say the slang Muggle term was? It was some kind of an animal--a farm animal. Ron furrowed his brow once more. A hog! he said aloud. They called it a hog! But that didn't sound like anything the motorbike would recognize. Oh, well--nothing else to try. _Descendo Hoggus!  
  
_The motorbike made a move and then stopped, as if trying to decide if it was supposed to listen to that command or not. But finally it slowly started moving toward the ground, flattening its tires with its own weight but staying upright and leaning on a very shaky bent piece of metal that stuck out at an odd angle.  
  
Looking closely at the badly tarnished front fender, Ron had an idea. He yanked his undershirt up and wrapped his fingers in the hem of it, then leaned down to the fender. Pushing as hard as he could against the shirt cloth with his long fingers, he rubbed in a circular motion in a patch about half the size of his palm. As he worked, the grin on his face grew wider.  
  
Two minutes later Ron could see his own reflection in the glinting chrome oval on the motorbike's fender.  
  


~~~***~~~  
  


The sun was finally setting on another hot July day, but no one seemed sorry to see it go. Ron was seated at the small desk in his room that evening, ready to open--The Letter. He took a deep breath and unfolded it.  
  
_Dear Ron,  
  
You'll never guess what I did today. I sat on the beach. Oh, what fun (snore).  
Well, at least our exciting little trip is almost over and I can go home and relax. I have to catch up on reading several of the books that I couldn't bring with me._  
  
Yeah, Hermione, and I know why, Ron muttered to himself. With your idea of several books', even_ I _know the Muggle plane wouldn't have been able to get off the ground.  
  
_I've brought along a few books on creatures' rights to read while I'm here, though. I'll have to share what I learned when I see you._  
  
Ron groaned. _Now **there's** something to look forward to, _he thought sarcastically.  
  
_The weather has been precisely as I explained to you it would be, with a thunderstorm nearly every afternoon that makes the air feel more humid and hotter than ever. (Not to mention what it does to people's hair--Sleakeazy's would do a good business here.)_  
  
He furrowed his brow--he had no idea what that meant--_must be a girl thing._  
  
_ My parents have taken me to some lovely places for dinner to try some of the local cuisine, so I suppose there are some good things to talk about. It is very nice to sit in an open-air restaurant just off the beach and listen to the waves as you watch the sunset. It could be very romantic, I suppose, if you were with someone you cared about._  
  
_Hmmm...why would she tell me that? Listening to the ocean crashing, watching the sun go down and tucking in a chicken leg all at once is romantic? Bloody hell, how's a bloke to know all that romantic stuff? They ought to teach a class, _Ron thought,_ it'd be a damn sight more useful than History of Magic--or Divination. Come to that, maybe it **is **a form of Divination._Then his eyes narrowed. _As long as she wasn't thinking about stupid Krum...  
  
Harry's probably told you I sent this letter by Muggle post to him so that he could get it to you--hopefully with Hedwig, if the Muggles let him send her this year. Besides, I wanted to let you know that even though I love seeing my parents, I'm anxious to come visit the Burrow and get back to the magical world. Hmmm, I hope I haven't got out of practice with my spells (at least at your house I can discuss them without frightening people)._  
  
Ron felt a satisfied little smile cross his lips. Maybe she wasn't thinking about Viktor after all. And even if she was, it was the _Burrow_ that she was anxious to visit'. Viktor wasn't going to have her at his house--but he was.  
  
_Speaking of Harry, have you thought of what to get him for his birthday?  
  
I should likely be at home by the time you receive this, so send any responses there. Let me know when I should come so that I can talk to my parents. Say to Ginny for me and tell her not to work too hard on all that clean-up. I know you won't. (Just kidding.)  
  
Hoping to see you soon,  
Hermione  
_  
_Hoping to see you soon? _Ron could have sworn he felt his heart skip a beat because he was quite anxious to see her soon as well. But then his excitement dulled..._That was just a friendly thing to say, wasn't it? We've talked to each other like that for years--hell, it's something I might say to Harry, so what am I thinking? Argh, this matter of being best friends with someone you like is so bloody confusing. Or is it that I like my best friend? Bugger!  
  
_Ron had been struggling with this same dilemma for most of fifth year, and it simply wasn't sorting itself out at all. He knew, he just _knew_ that even though he loved them both equally as friends, some of what he was feeling for Hermione these days was _not _the same as what he felt for Harry (thank Merlin!) But what to do about it was simply beyond him.   
  
He and Hermione (and Harry, if it came to that) had seen each other at their best and their worst, both physically and emotionally. They'd had huge arguments and managed to work their way through them and still remain friends. The three of them had made decisions together in life-threatening situations and he and Hermione had vowed to protect Harry at all costs--as a team, if necessary. They would die for one another--and that was all within the scope of their friendship'. _Now how the bloody hell does someone make a friendship like that mean more?  
  
_Ron simply threw those thoughts off and realized that it wasn't going to be resolved tonight, so perhaps he'd better get started on writing those letters back to Harry and Hermione. He took Pig from his cage in the corner and set him on the tying perch, then immediately realized it had been the wrong thing to do.  
  
As soon as Ron released the little owl onto the stick that served as a roost on the tying stand, Pig started sidestepping from one end of the stick to the other, over and over and over, side to side to side...  
  
Ron shook his head at his pet. Bad idea on my part, eh, you fluffy little git? I always forget you're not like a normal owl and you get so excited to be off. Should have waited until I had the letter written. Oh, well--try not to wear yourself out before I send you to Hermione's, okay?   
  
Several hours later, the letter that Ron had written to Harry was already signed and rolled, ready to be tied to Errol downstairs (there weren't many places that Errol could still remember his way to, but luckily, Harry's was one of them). Ron was just putting the finishing touches on Hermione's letter and he stopped to re-read it one last time:  
  
_Dear Hermione,  
  
It sounds as if you're managing to suffer through all of those horrors at the beach, but maybe all that reading you're doing is keeping your mind off of them, right? I trust that all of that new creatures' rights information you're learning hasn't led to your chasing down any more evil men. What am I saying? It couldn't have, because I wasn't there to save you and you're still alive. Ha ha._  
  
He had considered mentioning something about the romantic part here, but aside from not having a clue what to say, he knew he wouldn't have the nerve to say it anyway. _So we'll just move on..._  
  
_Lots of things have happened here. Big exciting things, too. The grass grew. Errol's been sleeping better. The gnomes have discovered a new soft spot to dig back in under the fence. Things keep magically appearing at the bottom of Mum's To Do list. But if I tell you more, I'm sure the excitement will overwhelm you and you'll be afraid to come here. And we certainly don't want that!  
  
Mum says you're welcome to come anytime and move to Headquarters with us when we go, if you want. And yes, I have been working hard, thank you very much! Just wait till you see! Besides, I have something rather, erm...interesting... to show you.  
  
Hoping to see you soon--too.  
  
Ron  
_  
He felt his ears going hot and at the same time became exasperated with himself for it.  
_Gah, Weasley! You act like you've never said that before! And it's just friendly--just friendly! _Ron was trying desperately to ignore the other little voice pushing to make itself heard--the one that was saying, _It's not the words you said--it's the feelings behind them, you prat! You know, the feelings that are rather **more **than friendly?  
  
_Just then, Ginny knocked on the half-open door to Ron's room, claiming to be hot and bored of reading in her own room. She seemed to feel free to barge right in without first receiving permission this time._  
_  
Ron desperately hoped that his ears were finished making fools of themselves by now--or at least, that she wouldn't notice.  
  
Oh! Writing love letters to Hermione? Ginny asked with a twinkle in her eye, leaning over what he'd written.   
  
_Damned ears! _   
  
Ron answered flatly, still staring at the parchment he held in front of him. He had worked very hard to make his handwriting neat and legible for once (it wasn't as if he didn't have time) and there were a number of crumpled pieces of parchment littered around his desk to prove it.  
  
Yeah, sure, Ginny persisted playfully.  
  
See for yourself then, Ron said. There. I just finished. He shoved the piece of parchment toward Ginny.  
  
Ginny picked up the letter and began to wander toward the window, reading as she walked. Suddenly, she looked slyly back at Ron.  
  
Oh, I think you've made a mistake, she said innocently, heading for the door. I have just the thing for it!  
  
Ron stood quickly and stepped in front of her. _Leave_ the letter, please, he said firmly, holding out his hand.  
  
Ginny shrugged and dropped the parchment into his outstretched palm, then hopped down the stairs. Ron's brow furrowed as he re-read the letter again, but for the life of him, he couldn't find a single error (he'd learned long ago how easily Hermione spotted such things). On the other hand, Ginny had always been a better speller than he was.  
  
He was still engrossed in his error search when Ginny reappeared in the doorway. She held in her palm something small and pink and rubbery. It's an Eraser Placer. Takes off the wrong letter and replaces it with the ones you say.  
  
Ron looked skeptical. I never saw one of those before. You sure it's not one of Fred and George's inventions that's going to smear ink all over the place or set it on fire or something?  
  
Ginny said in exasperation, rolling her eyes. Catelyn Hamner gave it to me--it was one of hers.  
  
Frowning, Ron reluctantly handed the parchment back to Ginny, trying to remember if he'd ever heard of this Catelyn Hamner before.  
  
Ginny laid the parchment on the desk and leaned over to work at whatever she seemed to think the problem was. Ron shifted from side to side to see what she was doing but couldn't manage to see around her shoulders.  
  
But he watched her suspiciously. This was taking far too long. What are you doing now?  
  
Ginny turned an innocent-looking expression toward him. Checking the rest of your spelling--you don't want to look like a complete idiot in front of Hermione, now do you?  
  
No, but--  
  
The letter's done, right? Ginny asked, finally standing straight and moving toward Pig's perch next to the window. The little owl chirped as she approached and she scratched his neck a bit. When he saw the letter in Ginny's hand, he obediently held out his little claw. She tied the top of the scroll to the owl's tiny leg, leaving the parchment unfurled for one last check. Acting as if she'd forgotten something, she touched the eraser to the letter one more time.  
  
_That_ is _it!_ I'm not that bad of a speller! What are you up to? Ron asked, determined to see what she'd done. He stomped to her side and looked down at the letter. It all looked as he'd left it. He barely noticed that she shoved the window open next to her as wide as it would go while he checked.  
  
Nothing--I'll even let you see, Ginny said. She then touched the eraser to the bottom of the letter, at a place just above his signature. She mumbled something under her breath and Ron saw a thin black line swirl from the end of it, the line affixing itself in some pattern just above his name.   
  
Ron grabbed the corner of the scroll to pull it down more and saw the words Love, Ron at the bottom of the page scrawled in a perfect replica of his own handwriting. As the word sank in, he gasped and reached to pull the entire page from his sister's hands.  
  
But Ginny was ready for him. She slapped his hand away from the scroll, which rolled up immediately, then she firmly but gently grabbed Pig with both hands. She swung the little bird away from Ron, said Hermione's house! and tossed him out of the window.   
  
Ron threw himself halfway out the window then, grabbing at Pig. But he missed by a long shot. In a thrice the little tawny owl was gone.  
  
Ron growled, turning on his sister. Now what's she going to think?  
  
Ginny was nonplussed. The truth, perhaps? Oh, how awful for her to know how you actually feel and to even have it in writing.  
  
That was none of your business! he roared. We're--just friends--you stay out of it!  
  
Fine, then, she said nonchalantly. Take it back when you write her next.  
  
Ron was beginning to look more miserable than angry. You can't take something like that back!  
  
Sure you can if it's not true, Ginny said, picking up one of the crumpled pieces of parchment from the floor and making a perfect shot with it into the wastebin.  
  
But if I take it back, she'll think I don't -- Suddenly there wasn't a word to say in Ron's head or in his mouth.  
  
Ginny raised her eyebrows at him and smiled sweetly. And you do? So what's the problem?  
  
But not like-- His tongue felt like he'd just eaten five Ton-Tongue Toffees in a row.   
  
Ginny rolled her eyes heavenward and sighed. Go ahead, then--lie to yourself some more. What's it to me? You've been driving everyone in the house crazy with when Hermione comes, we'll do this', I hope it's this nice when she gets here', she's so brilliant at that'-- she singsonged.  
  
Ron looked desperate. But--but I've been talking about when Harry comes too!  
  
His sister looked up at him in exasperation. Yeah, right. Like once every ten times it's about Harry. So--okay, sign his letters Love, Ron' as well--I'm sure he'll be entertained by that.   
  
Fixing a smug look on her face, Ginny took her leave of him then. She acted as if she knew full well that he was standing in helpless confusion in the middle of his room and staring at her back as she haughtily sauntered out the door.  
  


~~~***~~~  


  
Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no...errrrfffff!   
  
The enormous, tipping bundle of belongings she'd been carrying fell with a_ flump_ on the bed, bouncing a bit from their own weight landing so heavily. Never mind that she had fallen onto the bed right along with them.  
  
As Hermione pushed up from her mound of vacation items and felt her feet touch the floor again, she also felt the heat of a glare and began to scan the room. It didn't take long to find the source.  
  
she cried, spotting the ginger tabby staring at her with wide eyes from his place curled up on her pillow. She bounced around the bed to encircle him in her arms and bury her face in his soft fur, finally lifting her head to look into his face.  
  
His very sour-looking face, that was.  
  
Oh, now, you know I couldn't take you with me, Hermione told him in self-defense. You would have been most irritated having to be in that cage to fly only to be stuck in a hotel room anyway. I'm sure you were much happier here, and I know perfectly well that Mrs. Anders loves you to bits and took very good care of you while we were away. You must have been eating well--just look at you--you haven't lost an ounce. She cooked you more fresh mackerel, didn't she?  
  
Crookshanks still appraised her haughtily. If he were human, she thought, he'd surely have one eyebrow cocked in disdain. But she knew he'd give in soon. He was just making certain that she knew he disapproved of her treatment of him--just like Ron did sometimes. _Hmmmm...must be the ginger hair that does it,_ she thought, stifling a giggle.  
  
Crookshanks snuffed, then settled his head back on his paws--but at the same time he began to purr.   
  
That's better, Hermione said, squeezing the very large cat-Kneazle into one last hug and kissing him lightly on the nose. She stood and looked at the conglomeration of clothes, books, toiletries, and other odds and ends on her bed that had nearly tipped and gone rolling down the stairs before she managed to cart them here. How did I ever survive as a Muggle? she asked Crookshanks. Putting things in their place one by one, Hermione found herself wishing all the while that she could simply whip out her wand and get it done in one-tenth of the time.  
  
After watching her a bit with shifting eyes, Crookshanks stood from his place, and stretched, then walked off the bed across the bedside table. Standing on his hind legs, he proceeded to scratch with both feet at the glass, his long claws making the horrible screeching sound that he'd apparently learned earned him his way outside most promptly.  
  
Just a minute, she told him, but by the time she walked across the room to where he was, he was no longer digging but walking back and forth on the windowsill across something light-colored and crunchy. Hermione furrowed her brow at the sight of a letter that had apparently been slid beneath the locked window onto the sill somehow. She ran her hand down Crookshanks' back and the cat moved so she could pick up the envelope.  
  
So when did this get here? she asked, knowing full well that Crookshanks probably knew exactly when it arrived and would have been thrilled to let the delivery owl in for an impromptu playtime if he could have.  
  
Examining the envelope, she noted that it was addressed to Miss Hermione Granger, which told her it wasn't from one of her friends--everyone she knew regularly dropped the Miss'. Quickly flipping it over, she was surprised to see the distinctive and ornate Ministry seal.  
  
Her heart sank. Oh, no, she said aloud, holding the envelope to her chest and closing her eyes, trying to summon her Gryffindor courage. _What if they've decided to press charges for the Department of Mysteries break-in? We'll all be expelled for sure, no matter what Dumbledore said. Maybe they've overridden him, maybe they've decided to take charge of Hogwarts again, maybe--  
  
_Hermione took a deep breath and looked at the letter once more, ordering herself not to panic. Just open it, Hermione. Sliding one finger under the wax seal, the flap easily popped open and she reached inside to pull out several pieces of parchment . _ Oh, it's so long--there must be loads of charges...  
  
_Slowly unfolding the parchment, she began to read:  
  
_Dear Miss Granger,  
  
Some time ago, you submitted an application to our Summer Internship Program, listing your proposed specialty as creatures' rights'. Although we rarely have many opportunities in this field, an internship position of this nature has become available to commence the twenty-fourth of July of this year, and continuing for thirty days thereafter.  
  
As your submitted Letter of Application, qualifications, and faculty recommendations appear to be of superior quality, you have been accepted as our first choice to fill this position.  
  
Oh my word. Thank Merlin it's this. But I'd forgotten all about it!_  
  
  
_The primary nature of the internship will be to assist Dr. Christopher Null, the   
distinguished and acclaimed Crystobel Prize winner, with his current research project, the results of which he notes as being crucial to the survival of a high-level endangered magical species, the Yeti._  
  
Hermione gasped. _Christopher Null? The great zoolowizard?! To assist **him **in a research project? Ohhh--that article in the** Prophet! **_This was all too good to be true. She pinched her earlobe, then read the letter again and there it was. Permitting herself a girlish luxury that she rarely took part in for fear of sounding silly, she squealed.  
  
Bounding down the stairs to her parents, she breathlessly told them of her good fortune. Together the three of them went over the rest of the paperwork: a response form, an instruction letter regarding travel arrangements to the worksite, and a list of suggested clothing and items to bring along. Finally, they read together the last paragraph of the letter:  
  
_We sincerely hope that you will consider our offer of this internship. We realize that this is late notice, but our correspondence was delayed due to logistics problems in our home office._   
  
Hermione cringed. She was very aware of which logistics problems' the Ministry was referring to-- just a little snafu in the Department of Mysteries, perhaps? Or perhaps it was the battle in the Atrium between Harry and Bellatrix, and finally, Dumbledore and Voldemort? Thankfully, it wouldn't be necessary for her to spend much time in the Ministry office according to the itinerary.  
  
_Your response is requested no later than July seventeenth should we need to secure another intern for this marvelous opportunity.   
_  
The seventeenth? Hermione asked herself, mentally counting and then suddenly panicking. That's today!  
  
The letter may have been here a few days, dear, Mrs. Granger reasoned. Didn't you have to do something to stop the owls from coming to Bermuda?  
  
An Owl Ban--yes--that's why it came here, Hermione replied. But-- what do you think? Can I accept?  
  
I wish we had a bit more time to think about it--and knew a little more about the circumstances, Mrs. Granger said. But unless your father objects for some reason, I don't see how you could pass up an opportunity like that.  
  
Hermione's father had been standing by, listening. I know you said there'd been some trouble there in the Ministry office around the same time that you were injured. Is this handled by them as well? Do you think they've improved their safety precautions?  
  
Hermione didn't want to lie, exactly, to her parents about the Ministry break-in, but on the other hand, she didn't want to worry them unnecessarily either, since it was difficult for them to understand just why she and her friends had gone there in the first place.  
  
I know there were some problems before, but as far as I can tell from this itinerary, I only need to report to the Ministry office once, Hermione explained. After that, we'll be on-site with the creatures performing the study, so I don't see why the Ministry would even be involved that much, except that they're paying for the study under the Department of Creatures' Rights. I'm certain I'll just be working directly with Dr. Null if I'm to be his assistant and I'm certain the security precautions for a scientific study will be very strict.  
  
Dr. Granger sighed. Well, as your mum said, it's difficult to make a decision based on what little we have, but...I think you're old enough to handle yourself, or find your way out if it looks like there's trouble brewing. I'm sure your Ministry would have to accept full responsibility for your welfare, especially since you're underage.  
  
Hermione waited for the final decree. Her father seemed to be mulling over his own words.  
  
Taking all of that into consideration...I don't see why it would be a serious problem.  
  
Oh, thank you! It'll be nothing short of wonderful--you'll see! Hermione launched herself at her father, quickly and tightly hugging him around the neck before she did the same to her mum. I'd better go get this response letter ready and off right now, then, before it's too late!  
  
Pounding her way back up the stairs this time, thoughts were blazing their way through Hermione's mind. She thought of what to take, how to get there, what books she should read beforehand to help her assist Dr. Null and not look like a complete idiot...  
_I have to owl Harry..._she thought quickly, then all of the thoughts flying through her mind suddenly ground to a complete halt_...and I have to owl Ron.  
  
_Back in her room once more, that last thought had taken over all the rest and temporarily thrown them out of her mind. She knew Ron was looking forward to her visit to the Burrow; she'd been looking forward to it, too--even told him to check with his parents to see when she could come. Now she'd have to tell him that she wouldn't be staying for the rest of the summer, as planned.  
  
_But Ron will understand--of course he will. He wouldn't want to stand in the way of my doing something so important to me. Would he? _A sudden but strong doubt ran through her mind. She remembered how protective Ron had been of her when they were in the hospital wing together and how he'd told her they_ all _ought to stay away from the Ministry ghouls because no one could be certain who were the good guys and who were the bad ones the way the wizarding world stood now (with the exception of the Order members, of course). Hermione was hoping perhaps he'd forgotten how upset he was then.  
  
But she knew Ron-- and she knew him so well that she was certain he'd have something to say about her going. Not that that was going to stop her. Yet perhaps she could find enough time to tell him in person at least, and explain that she'd be out of harm's way working way out there away from all the Ministry officials. The only people who would be with her were scientists and many scientists were famous for not giving a damn about political things, right? If she could work in a few days at the Burrow before going away for most of the rest of the summer, maybe Ron wouldn't be too upset.  
  
_Oh, sure, Hermione, _she thought. _Dream on..._ But she had to tell him in person--there was nothing else for it. Taking a deep breath, Hermione headed out of her bedroom door and down the stairs one more time. Mum? Dad!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Surprises and Scars

_A/N: As always, many thanks to my beta readers   
**Christina Teresa**(with the fastest uber-beta in the West this time!)**, Seakays **(who knows just when to sigh to keep me encouraged about my writing)**, **and **sunshydaisies **(to whom I dedicate this chapter, and who I know will be back to her cheerful, healthy, brilliant self very soon!) Thanks as well to those on the SugarQuill All Things British thread, especially   
**Atropos,Wonky Faint **and **pensnest **for their information on British motorcycle law.  
__  
_  
  
Chapter 5   
Surprises and Scars

It had certainly been a whirlwind of a week already. After accepting the internship, Hermione and her mother had shopped to buy her some special clothing and gear for living in the wild. Hermione packed and re-packed everything several times until she finally felt she was ready--five days early. But that was the plan--that left four days for the Burrow, and hopefully, those would be enough to satisfy Ron without him getting in a complete snit about it.   
  
Very early the following morning, Hermione ordered a Special Delivery Owl from Owl Post (the younger and faster ones always cost more, but their service was always much speedier). She'd decided to contact Mrs. Weasley directly because if she owled Ron, Hermione would have some explaining to do about the sudden change in plans, and wasn't that the whole point of this--to explain it to him in person?  
  
Mrs. Weasley returned the pre-paid owl promptly and, as always, was thrilled to have Hermione come to stay that very day (perhaps Ron had been right about her tiring of just him and Ginny after only a few weeks...). Ron's mum was even more thrilled to hear about the internship (Dr. _Null? _ she wrote. How _grand_ for you, my dear!). But Hermione had requested that Mrs. Weasley keep the internship a surprise' so that she could tell Ron herself--and she knew the woman well enough to know she wouldn't interfere with something so important.   
  
So it was that Hermione found herself in Ottery St. Catchpole on the Burrow's doorstep that very afternoon. She had only a small satchel in hand instead of the trunks and boxes she ordinarily carted there when she planned on going straight to Hogwarts with the Weasleys in September. Her father hugged her goodbye, assuring her he would be back to get her the afternoon before she was to leave for her internship. He thanked Mrs. Weasley for her hospitality, then quickly hurried off to start the long return drive home.  
  
Hermione stepped through the door of the Burrow, feeling the familiar warmth of the house course through her immediately. The sweet summer scent of vanilla and fresh-cut flowers instantly reminded her there had been so many good times here. It was difficult to feel there was anything evil or threatening in the outside world when you were safe inside the Weasleys' home. She had missed being here last summer when they all stayed at number twelve Grimmauld Place to prepare it for the Order--and she already knew it was going to be difficult to leave after only four days' time.  
  
Mrs. Weasley called up the stairs.   
  
Ginny came loping down the steps, a big grin blossoming on her face when she saw Hermione standing in the foyer. Hey, you made it! I'm glad you're here--now Ron will have someone else to pick on.  
  
Mrs. Weasley said reproachfully. That's not a very nice way to welcome someone.  
  
Ginny rolled her eyes. She_ knows_ Ron, Mum.  
  
Speaking of Ron, you did tell him Hermione was coming like I asked, didn't you? Mrs. Weasley asked. Is he in his room cleaning up or...?  
  
A sudden look of realization crossing her face, Ginny's hand moved to cover her mouth before she let one sound escape.   
  
Oh, Ginny! Mrs. Weasley scolded.   
  
But he never came in, Mum, Ginny said, defending herself. He's been out in that shed all day. I heard the door bang once--he might have come in to grab something for lunch--but I thought he'd come in later and then I just got so involved in sorting all those parchments from the files...  
  
Well, there's nothing for it now, Mrs. Weasley said. He has been out there an awful lot--but then, I suppose that's what it's going to take for him to do what I asked. So do you think you can take Hermione up to drop her things in your room and_ still_ remember to show her the way to the shed after?  
  
It was easy for Hermione to see where Ron got some of his sarcasm; she smiled.  
  
Ginny grimaced and rolled her eyes. Yes, Mum.  
  
The two girls climbed the stairs to Ginny's room and returned, chattering all the while about the events of the few weeks since they'd left Hogwarts.  
  
As they worked their way out onto the back porch and into the scorching summer heat, Hermione looked around the enormous back yard. She didn't remember there ever being a shed big enough that someone could spend a lot of time in it, but perhaps the Weasleys had added something since she'd been there last. She saw nothing but the tiny outbuilding Ron had told her was probably once a chicken coop; surely he couldn't have been in there.When Ron looked out toward the voices he heard near the house, his string of profane words would have impressed even Peeves had the poltergeist been around to hear them.  
  
What is she doing here _today?!_ Why doesn't anyone ever tell me _anything?_ Ron said in exasperation to himself.  
  
If he'd been closer to the front of the huge wizard space, moving objects from one place to another as he'd been doing earlier, he might have heard the car soon enough to do something about it. He might have even made it to the house in time to sneak through the back door and get to his room before Ginny and Hermione made it to the back porch.  
  
As it was, Ron had been down in the depths of the space, polishing and cleaning parts of the now-dismantled motorbike, so he hadn't managed to hear the car until it was driving away. At first thinking it must have been someone on their way to the Muggle neighbors' house some two miles down the road, Ron was shocked when he walked up to look through the open shed doors and saw a car identical to that of Hermione's parents speeding its way down the dusty path.  
  
Trying to give himself a few more seconds to collect his thoughts and compose himself, Ron had pulled the shed doors tightly shut. The two girls were on the porch by now and had likely seen him, but he didn't care--if they were going to launch a surprise attack, they deserved what they got. He heard footsteps crunching down the little path.  
  
Frantically glancing between the doors and the sound of the approaching footsteps just beyond, Ron looked down at himself. His old shorts, T-shirt and trainers showed little black smears of whatever goo was all over the inside of that motorbike--he'd been trying to clean all of the little pieces. He tried desperately to remember if he had run his hands through his hair while mucking in the black stuff and a quick look into the semi-shiny side of a toaster told him he had. To top it off, there were a few black smears on his face as well. And--he looked down, mortified--there was no way the short sleeves of his T-shirt were going to cover those scars...  
_  
Damn,_ _ and I've been out here all day in the heat! I must smell like the business end of a Graphorn! _ Little did he know he was going to be having guests--important guests. Ron lifted his arm and took a whiff. He scrunched his face at the smell. _Argh! There isn't even a back door to make a run for the pond! What now? _   
  
His eyes landed on the spray bottle of _Simple Slim's Slicklean_ he'd had in his hand --the cleaner! Ron snapped it up from the table and sprayed a bit into the air, sniffing again. It smelled like...it smelled like..._hell, who knows?_ But it smelled better than him, he thought. Quickly he lifted each arm and squirted. Taking another sniff only confirmed his resolve not to let the two girls in until he found his wand.  
  
_Bloody hell! _It was clear back there, by the motorbike. _Accio wand!_ Ron said and held his hand up to receive it. But just at the moment he said the words, the shed doors banged open and startled him; he heard the soft clatter of a wand landing when it fell somewhere nearby.  
  
Surprise, Ron! he heard Ginny say loudly behind him.  
  
Surprise-- and hello, Hermione's voice was a bit more tentative, but he could tell she was_ right_ behind him.  
  
He winced. Nothing to do now but turn around.  
  
Ron said rather dejectedly. Surprises for everyone.  
  
Hermione smiled straight into his eyes as he faced her and she made a move as if to hug him, but he took a quick step back. Ginny's eyes shifted between them for a moment before she purposefully stepped away and casually wandered off between the tables, occasionally picking up some object to examine.  
  
I -- I didn't know you were coming today, Ron spluttered in explanation. Or else I would have been more, er, ready--  
  
Hermione said softly with a strange tone to her voice. Seeming oddly disappointed when he had moved to avoid her, she finally got a chance to take a closer look at him. I mean...well, that's all right. You didn't know. There was a very loud pause in the conversation. How are you?  
  
Okay, and...er...dirty, it seems.  
  
Looking at Hermione made Ron feel even worse about his own condition. She'd been excited to see him when he'd first turned, her eyes sparkling, her curls softly bouncing around her face. She was tanned and the glow of the warm Bermuda sun had been trapped in her hair to reflect with a hundred different lights. _She looks really pretty, _he thought, purposely stopping himself--_as a friend, Weasley, as a friend!   
  
And look at you--you're filthy... and at best, you smell like Simple Slim's Slicklean... _A quick look down at his bare arms made him choke back a gasp. He shoved his arms behind his back to hide the scars while he cleared his throat to distract her. _Say something --fast. _ Erm, how was the island?   
  
All right. Pretty much like I told you it would be, Hermione answered. She acted as if she might have noticed what he'd done with his arms, but she was trying rather unsuccessfully to cover it up. Loads of time for reading on the beach, I suppose, if you like that sort of thing--the beach, I mean--the reading's always fine.  
  
Ron was trying hard not to be distracted by how nicely the tones of her hair against her tawnier skin seemed to make her eyes stand out more--and her smile. Something in his stomach leapt. Well, you look really...Ron's brain clenched at the sound of his own words, which had somehow gotten crossed up with something in his chest. _Merlin's monkey, now you've done it --now you actually have to say something about how she looks... _ _Think! **Think!**_ He winced as the last word burst out. _Gods. Brilliance in action--just kill me now...  
  
_Hermione smiled faintly at him, with a curious sort of tilt to her head. Thank you. She sidestepped to peer around his body into the huge room beyond. So...what's all this about? As she scanned its vast expanse, her eyes grew wider and she appeared more astonished. Someone made this much wizard space in this tiny little shed? What on earth for?  
  
Ron explained all that his mother had told him about his father's collections', and how he had come to be the one to sort it all out. He told Hermione of the trouble he'd had at first trying to separate the thousands of items down there. Explaining that he finally found a spell that worked to separate everything into some semblance of order, he told her that the job was now officially halfway done.  
  
He also swore Hermione to secrecy about the fact that his father had gotten in the habit of stopping by' the shed after work once he found Ron was assigned to set the place in order. The problem was that Molly Weasley had told Arthur she didn't want him fooling about' the shed until Ron had it all organized so they could take care of the collecting problem once and for all'. But Arthur had other ideas, especially once he found out Ron had made such an entertaining discovery. The almost-daily visits had continued, always taking place before Arthur ever set foot in the house proper.  
  
Hey! And you'd better not tell her either! Ron said loudly, pointing a finger at his little sister.  
  
Ginny was nearby, inspecting a pretty little wooden box that made tinkly music when it was opened. She looked at her brother as if he was mad. Like I care anyway that you and Dad are working on that--thing. But let me take this and my lips are sealed forever.  
  
Fine, have it, Ron said. One less thing to move about. Just remember you promised.  
  
Ginny frowned at him, sending a meaningful look Hermione's way. What did I tell you? She picked up the wooden box and moved away.  
  
But I can still hardly believe..._your mum_ said you could use magic? Hermione asked in disbelief.  
  
Amazing, isn't it? Ron said. But look at all this. She probably knew I would have just walked away if I couldn't use magic to help me. And I almost walked away anyway.  
  
I--think I see your point, Hermione said, examining the stacks of items on one of the tables.  
  
Even worse, practically nothing down here is magical, Ron told her. I couldn't Summon anything at all. I don't even know half the names for this stuff. But I ended up finding a way. I called their base elements like metal and wood and glass--took them down to the point where they could have gone either way, magical or Muggle: separated them into base elements, then separated by size. I used the Circumferencia Separator Spell. Whatever didn't fit through the hole waited to go with the next bigger or smaller size.  
  
Hermione seemed impressed with Ron's magical solution to the enormous problem. Suddenly he felt just a bit better--at least enough to let an excited little thought scurry through his brain. He'd been anxious to tell her since he'd thought of it: now he could tell her in person and they could work on the project together. Between the two of them, they could easily get it done in the several weeks' time there was left.  
  
And I've found something else to keep me busy, Ron said, his eyes sparkling.  
  
This didn't keep you busy enough? Hermione teased. Don't tell me--cross-breeding Hippogriffs and Blast-Ended Skrewts?  
  
Close--but this is even better. Harry's birthday present, Ron beamed. Come see. Though he almost grabbed for her hand by reflex to lead her to the back of the wizard space, he remembered in the nick of time that his hands were covered with spots of nasty black stuff. Instead, he just signaled her to follow him, hoping that she didn't follow closely enough to become overwhelmed with the odor of _Simple Slim's.  
  
_Ron finally stopped and stepped aside so that Hermione could survey his workspace.  
He watched her look over the numerous oddly-shaped pieces lying about the floor, all of them sparkling clean, then she looked farther until she saw the frame of the motorbike. It was fairly well-stripped at the moment with a number of parchment rolls curled together and lying between what once was a seat and the now-glistening handlebars.  
  
He waited for her to say something, but she merely stood there staring with her mouth slightly agape. Well? What do you think?  
  
Oh, well...it's...a motorbike, obviously...a fine idea, Hermione stammered, working hard at trying to sound polite. You know Harry can't get a license until he's seventeen--he'll only be sixteen this year.  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. I know that--Dad asked around and told me when you could get one.  
  
But does it work? Or did it work? All these parts...do you know _how_ to fix a Muggle motorbike?  
  
Ron wasn't certain if he should be insulted or not. I'm learning. Dad's helping some, too. He'd love to be able to make it run again, but he doesn't have much time what with work and the Order and all. He brought me some magazines that were lying around at the Ministry--old Muggle research stuff. He pointed to some periodicals lying open in several places around the motorbike.  
  
Hermione looked sympathetic, as if she didn't want to tell him what she was about to say. Ron, some people have to work months, or even years to know how to put something like this back together correctly. With all these parts, and you don't know which ones are working right, how can you be sure you can do this?  
  
Thanks loads, Hermione, for the vote of confidence, Ron said rather irritably. I was planning on asking you to help out, but never mind. If you don't even think I _can_ put it back together, I won't even ask you about the second part.  
  
It's not exactly that I don't think you _can..._ Hermione said weakly, it's the time...  
  
Ron asked. He reached for the stack of curled-up parchment pages and pulled them apart, looking for one in particular. Holding up a page that had a picture of a rather complex-looking part with the words For the key written on the bottom, he turned the parchment a quarter-turn and looked at the parts lying on the floor. Finding the group that he wanted, he knelt down to lay the parchment on the floor and set the shiny clean parts on top of the page. He stood to face the shed entrance, called _Accio wand!_ and held up his hand until he felt the smack of it in his palm. _Reformicus totallus! _he said, pointing the wand at the randomly-spaced parts.  
  
As Ron smugly watched the amazement appear on Hermone's face, the tiny parts first began to vibrate, then raced toward the diagram of the complex completed part, whirling and scrambling in and out of each other's way until they settled into some semblance of order. They finally dropped onto the parchment reassembled into one piece that looked precisely like the part in the diagram.  
  
Hermione was staring. How--how did you know to do that? And why do they know the charm?  
  
Ron said smugly. The motorbike was all together when I found it--just rusty and dirty and perhaps needing some new pieces--  
  
Parts--they're called-- and when they're all together, they're assemblies, Hermione corrected. If you're going to work with them that expertly, you need to call them what the experts do.  
  
Ron's cocky grin slipped onto his face in spite of himself. _ Expertly, eh?_ Even if he didn't actually believe it himself, it was nice to hear something like that from Hermione.  
  
Parts, then, Ron conceded. So I just took out the larger _assembly _and laid the whole thing on a parchment, then charmed the parts to break themselves down and remember how to put themselves back together.  
  
And an old Muggle motorbike responded to that? Hermione asked.  
  
Ron answered. An old Muggle motorbike didn't. But _this_ motorbike did. He pointed his wand at the motorcycle frame and said loudly, _Ascendo Hoggus! _The skeletal frame shook rather violently, but managed to lift itself several feet from the ground nevertheless.  
  
How did you know it would--and that's a strange spell for lifting-- Hermione started in confusion, then gasped. Ron, it can't be!  
  
He knew the cocky grin was almost unbearable by now, but what better time to use it?  
He laid it heavily on Hermione.  
  
It is.  
  
Hermione gasped again. But I thought that was just wizarding legend! I mean, I thought perhaps Sirius really did own a Muggle motorbike at one time. But the whole thing about it being charmed to fly--and--I wonder if it's true about Hagrid and the flight to rescue Harry from Voldemort when Harry's parents were killed? I'm not sure Harry _really_ knows and Dumbledore and the others are always really secretive about the whole thing--  
  
I know, Ron said. That's why, now that you're here, I was going to ask for your help on the second part.  
  
Ask me what? Hermione responded.  
  
Some of these parts--I know they're completely useless. Maybe one day you could help me find a Muggle motorbike shop in London and go with me to replace them. And then there's the money--we could exchange some of mine at Gringott's for Muggle money, but--I'm--not sure what's what--or if it's enough. He looked at her rather sheepishly, as if for some reason he ought to have known about everything Muggle--and as if he was apologizing for not being rich.  
  
She smiled at him warmly. Of course I will.  
  
But I want to make sure this won't cause more problems for Harry. I know he can't really drive it until he's seventeen, but it'll be his from now on. I've already owled Professor Lupin, because he's the only other person Dad and I thought might have rightful claim to it. Lupin owled back that he didn't really want the motorbike and thought Harry was better suited for it anyway. He wrote, Think how much Harry already loves to fly. That's such a big part of life for him--just like it was for Sirius. Ron sighed and sounded more tentative then. But --do you think it's too soon? Do you think Harry would feel worse for having it instead of better?  
  
Hermione was quiet for a moment and it was difficult for Ron to tell what she was thinking. Then her face brightened and a soft smile appeared. No one can be certain how badly Harry's feeling right now. He won't say anything in his letters--nothing. But I think--for him-- to have something that's a part of Sirius, something that's part of his own past, and something that's become a part of you because you've repaired it just for him--that if he can't have Sirius back, there's nothing else he'd rather have.   
  
Ron was very, very pleased that she liked his idea, but still felt troubled. But I haven't got it working yet.  
  
Hermione smiled into his eyes. You will. And that was the first moment that Ron ever completely believed that he could.   
  
Suddenly Hermione looked a bit thoughtful and less excited. So--just _when_ are we going to go to London?  
  
Ron shrugged. Who knows? Some day when my dad can take us with him. We don't have to worry about that now--we have a couple of weeks yet before Harry's birthday--and he still may not be able to leave the Dursleys even then. We'll get round to it -- after all, you just got here.  
  
Watching Hermione's expression change to an even cloudier one, Ron wondered what in the world seemed to be concerning her. After all, like he said, they'd have plenty of time together to do everything he had planned.

_Stupid Fred and George! _

He secretly watched her walk down the winding path; she looked to both sides, probably following the directions someone had given her. She found the alder tree landmark and looked up, directly to where he sat, but he had already looked away and made no indication that he'd seen her. She began to climb slowly up the hill, picking her way between the rocks and trying to avoid turning her ankle in any of the many ground squirrel holes.  
  
Ron hadn't meant to desert her there at the dinner table with everyone else. It was rather rude of him, actually, and he knew that. But the anger just hadn't allowed him to think properly and now he felt bad about that, too. The twins had taunted him about everything: his excitement in having Hermione at the Burrow, the motorbike (that he wanted to keep secret from his mum for a bit), his encounter with the brain. _Bloody twins! What did I ever do to deserve being born after them?_  
  
Hermione had reached the lower end of the stone wall on which he was seated; the mortar footing along its bottom edge, though worn and crumbled, allowed her to climb much more quickly and easily. In a moment, she'd be next to him. He self-consciously pulled the long sleeves of his shirt over his wrists for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. Thank Merlin it was finally cooling down out here.  
  
Without saying a word, she moved next to him and put both hands on the wall behind her, hoisting herself up to sit beside him. They sat that way for some minutes, staring into the valley below. Silent themselves, the only sounds that reached them were the rhythmic chirping of the crickets and a dog barking fitfully in the distance.  
  
Although the light wouldn't be leaving their place for a while longer yet, the sun was sinking low in the sky and the hills to the west were already causing Ottery St. Catchpole below them to fall into a shadowy twilight. Rather than the brighter oranges and yellows still coloring the hillside where they sat, the little town was bathed instead in dusky hues of purple, deep blue, and bittersweet, and every few minutes another light would appear in the outskirts to herald the coming of another balmy summer evening.  
  
The very same lovely breeze that Ron had wished would stay for Hermione's arrival ruffled his hair. It startled him out of his daze; he sheepishly looked away from the view below and toward the girl who sat at his side. Until now there had been no need for words, just the comfort of having her there and the warmth of knowing that she came for him.  
  
You found me, he said.  
  
she replied. But in all fairness, I was told where I might look.  
  
He felt himself smiling a little. Ginny. She's been just a wealth of information lately.  
  
Hermione turned to him, a little surprised. Oh. Well, if you'd rather be alone...  
  
Hold on - I didn't say that, Ron responded. Actually - thanks. And - I didn't mean to do that.  
  
Do what?  
  
Just leave you there, Ron said. It's just that sometimes the twins--  
  
I know, Hermione interrupted. Say no more. They are the twins and they will always be the twins, no matter how old they get. Besides, I think you made a direct hit on Fred with that Esperum Doloroso Charm under the table.  
  
Ron turned to her with a warm, genuine smile, then the two of them resumed overseeing the valley below them where a number of lights just had come on. They watched the colors deepen and the shadows lengthen, beginning to edge their way closer.  
  
You don't have to hide them, you know, Hermione said without looking at him. Not from me.  
  
Ron asked, turning back to look at her.  
  
The scars, she replied, returning his gaze. I have one too, remember.  
  
I - I know. Ron was a bit taken aback by her directness. He knew he ought to say something else, but wasn't sure what. Er, um...how is it doing? I mean, is it - still healing all right?  
  
Yes, I suppose. Well-- here. Hermione put two fingers inside the top opening of her t-shirt and tugged it down about three inches from the base of her neck. She held her head higher and turned away so that Ron would be able to see.  
  
He automatically leaned closer out of curiosity, but then realized that what he was doing was staring at Hermione's chest. He turned away when his ears began to burn as hot as if someone had incanted _Inflamare!_  
  
Hermione must have noticed because she looked as if she was trying not to smile at his discomfort. But a bit of a grin slipped out nonetheless. It's okay, it's not--_ there_. But I won't be showing you the other end of the scar, I can promise you.  
  
After hearing Ginny's account of that night in the Department of Mysteries and trying to piece the information together with what he'd overheard in the hospital wing, Ron began to believe that Dolohov had been aiming for Hermione's heart with his spell. Ron was certain the scar had to pass somewhat lower on her left side and the simple thought of where it crossed brought the burning back to his ears-- then his face--in full force.  
  
But he was curious to see exactly what the scar had done; he had to know for himself that she was all right. After all, Harry's scar still affected him after all these years--Ron could only hope that Hermione's wouldn't do the same.  
  
Taking a mental deep breath as well as a physical one, Ron told himself it was simply a medical interest he had in his friend; he should have the maturity to be able to do this calmly. He leaned close to Hermione, squinting until he could see a very fine pale purple line crossing her smoothly tanned skin. The length of it as it swept four or five inches and then disappeared under her shirt collar sent a quick shockwave of sympathetic pain through him. He flinched at the urge to touch the scar and make sure it didn't hurt her any more. But he thought that would be really crossing the line--he'd never asked to touch Harry's, for Godric's sake--so he kept his hand safely on his own leg.  
  
_Well, if nothing else, I can ask._ Does it still hurt?  
  
No, not really. She spoke quietly and her voice this close was smooth, low, and resonant. Her warm, soft breath touched his ear and butterflies tickled at the insides of his ribs. It sort of prickles once in a while.  
  
Madam Pomfrey said yours would go away completely, didn't she? he asked. Being this close to her was firing strange feelings and thoughts through his mind and his body, but he didn't know how to control them or stop them; he wasn't sure he wanted to. Suddenly the thought of her parting kiss at King's Cross Station popped into his mind for some reason, and his cheek seemed to remember the feeling much too precisely. He had to stop being this close. Now. Before he did something stupid that would change their friendship forever. Drawing a deep breath as he forced himself to pull away, he sat up straight and stared back into the valley to regain some meager sense of control.  
  
She -- what? Hermione asked, sounding a bit confused herself. Oh--oh, yes. She said it ought to go away completely by the time we start school in the fall.  
  
_Thank the gods! _Ron thought._ Because it would be a crime for that ugly thing to scar someone as pretty as Hermione--I mean--what? I mean, I wouldn't wish that on any girl--any **friend,** for that matter. _Again, things were quiet for a few minutes as they stared into the distance.  
  
Hermione asked.  
  
Ron replied. He finally trusted himself to turn and look at her once more.   
  
Let's see yours, Hermione said in a strange, sort of knowing voice.  
  
My what?  
  
Your scars, Ron, she said. She reached for his wrist, but he pulled it away.  
  
Hey, that wasn't part of the deal, he said. He pulled the sleeves of his faded blue shirt over his wrists again.  
  
She stared straight into his eyes. I showed you mine, she said almost playfully. Fair's fair, you know. I've seen them before. And besides, I'll bet you're much too warm in that long-sleeved shirt. You should feel this lovely breeze on your skin.  
  
Damn! He knew she'd like that breeze. And he _was_ too warm--_especially after... well...it must just be extra warm tonight,_ he thought.  
  
Very slowly and deliberately, she reached for his wrist. He felt her fingers touch and tighten, pulling gently and insistently until his arm was in her lap. She turned his palm up and reached around to the side, unbuttoning the shirt sleeve he'd been tugging at most of the day.   
  
They're really ugly, Ron said, beginning to get nervous.  
  
I'll be the judge of that, she replied in a tone of mock superiority.  
  
Ron really wasn't in the mood to watch her grimace in revulsion once she saw the jagged, red blemishes still there after all this time. No, I don't think this is such a good idea. And you already know yours will go away. Mine might be ugly the rest of my life. Reckon I might as well get used to long sleeves no matter what the weather, eh? That's what happens when you do something so stupid as to pick someone's brain... He lamely tried to joke at the same time he started to pull his arm back.   
  
His own mention of the brain brought thoughts flooding into his mind. He wondered how much she knew. Did she know he giggled his way through the night at the Department of Mysteries? Did she know that even Luna had to save him? Was she thinking that next time she and Harry went on a rescue mission that they should plan to take Neville, their rescuer and companion, instead of him?  
  
The pain hit as if a weapon had been fired into his head. His eyelids pressed together to shut out the sight of the ground rocking beneath the two of them. Even sitting motionless, the pulling sensation from his arms seemed determined to rip a hole right through his brain. He clenched his teeth and could feel his face all hot and contorted, and he tried his damnedest to look away from her. He couldn't imagine how ugly he looked right now. _Don't look at me, Hermione! _If only he could say it...  
  
He heard her voice, but it sounded far away. Are you all right? Ron - what's wrong? What can I do?  
  
He tried to respond to her, but his voice box was so constricted he couldn't make a sound, so he just shook his head and gulped in a deep breath to help deal with the pain.  
  
Do you want to lie down? He could hear the concern in her voice. He could feel she cared about him, no matter what the precise meaning behind that caring. The pain began to lessen a little. He felt her small hand wrap warmly around his fist as it still lay clenched in her lap. Hold on--I'm right here. Is it getting better or worse? What can I _do?  
  
_Better--a little, he choked out. He felt her shove her other palm under the damp spikes of hair now hanging over his eyes; she flattened her hand against him momentarily, apparently feeling first for his temperature, then sliding her fingers rapidly through his hair to push it back from his sweaty forehead.  
  
Being hot in that shirt can't be helping either, she said almost irritably. Hermione reached across his lap, unbuttoning his cuff button and pushing the shirt sleeve up to his elbow. Though he already had the front of the shirt unbuttoned and open, she pulled the shoulders back with one hand so that the single layer of cloth from his undershirt was all that covered his chest and stomach.   
  
He began to breathe more normally now and Hermione's level of concern seemed to lower a bit. At least the air seemed to be moving in and out as it was supposed to, rather than being stuck in one lump in his throat. She was trying to help him and take care of him, even if he had effectively deserted her and Harry in the Department of Mysteries. Perhaps he wasn't such a terrible person after all, if she was willing to do that.  
  
Much--better now, Ron said quietly, feeling that strange tingling in the skin of his arms again. He opened his eyes and glanced down at his now-exposed left forearm, but he could see nothing had changed. He was just glad the tremendous pain in his head was subsiding.  
  
Ron finally glanced over at her and gave a weak smile.  
  
I don't know what it is when that happens, he said. It's happened a few times this summer. Maybe I'm channeling Harry.   
  
I'm not sure that's even funny, Hermione said, looking into his face a moment longer. Didn't Madam Pomfrey say that thought scars take a long time to heal? When that pain happens to you, is it your head or your arms that hurt?  
  
She had always been so observant. Erm, both really. It feels like they're pulling at each other somehow.  
  
Hmmm, perhaps the thought scars and the real thoughts are doing battle-- maybe it's just the way they have to heal.  
  
Ron thought for a moment. That almost made sense. But now her attention had diverted back to his arm in her lap. She'd managed to pull the right cuff back to his elbow while he was considering her idea.  
  
he said tensely.  
  
She looked up into his eyes. It's okay. I'm just looking. Her attention focused on his forearm again, where she held it warmly by the back of his wrist and turned it gently from side to side to see the pattern of the scars.  
  
_She only wants to see them, she's already done so in the hospital wing, and the light's getting dim, thank goodness. Okay,_ he told himself,_ I can let her do that...even if I can't watch her face while she does_. He tried to relax and let his hand fall limp.  
  
It's so weird that these marks are from thoughts, she said in her amazed and interested voice, the one he'd heard often when she was working on a new spell or a tantalizing unexplored subject. Did they have any idea whose brain it was?  
  
Ron was momentarily horrified. No! I didn't ask! And I don't want to know, either. They can have their bloody thoughts back, whoever they are, as long as they take the scars, too! He gently started to pull his arm away again but she wouldn't let him; he gave up trying rather quickly.  
  
He hadn't dared look at her face yet, but he couldn't resist the urge any longer. Ron turned his head slightly, peeking out from under the fringe of hair that had fallen back over his eyes. He was relieved to find her staring at the scars, but only with a mixture of wonder and sympathy.   
  
Absorbed in her expression, he didn't notice at first when Hermione lifted one finger of her opposite hand and touched it to the scar line closest to his wrist. He flinched slightly and she looked up at him briefly, smiling to let him know it was all right. She carefully moved her finger a few inches up the scarline.  
  
Does it hurt when I do this? she asked sincerely.  
  
_It does feel a bit odd--rather tickly,_ Ron thought. _But it most definitely doesn't hurt. _   
  
He felt her one finger move higher onto his arm, the sensation reaching much farther into his body than the few inches she had touched. Suddenly he felt all of her fingers on that hand moving gently over the bumps and whorls of the scar tissue, pressing lightly and releasing, then moving on. But for some reason, it didn't bother him nearly as much as he thought it would. In fact, it was quite--erm...pleasant.   
  
Can you feel anything in your thoughts? she asked.  
  
_What a strange question, _he thought. Maybe that _was_ what he was feeling. She was accepting his scars, and him, and that made it all okay.   
  
I--I think maybe I do, he said with a note of surprise. They don't feel so--ugly--any more somehow.  
  
Well, they're not that bad--and I have a feeling they'll go away--just think positive, Hermione said. Besides, you got them while trying to help a friend. How ugly could they be?  
  
Ron hadn't looked at it that way. Maybe he didn't exactly help everyone in the Planet Room and the Brain Room. Maybe things hadn't gone the way he'd expected. But he'd still gone to the Ministry of Magic with every intention of doing whatever it took to save Sirius and help Harry do so--even deal with injury or death if that turned out to be necessary.  
  
A sudden wisp of a breeze accosted his senses. His skin made his body alive with sensation and he shivered, hoping against hope that she wouldn't feel it through her fingers on his arm.  
  
Hermione responded, sounding curious. It's not making you cold, is it?  
  
_So much for her not feeling that. _No...not cold..no. _Definitely not cold. You'd better get yourself out of here now, Weasley. It's starting to get dangerous to feel this way about a friend. _I think maybe we'd better head back--Mum will send out the Guard if we're not back by dark, the way things are in the world right now.  
  
All right, but you have to leave your sleeves up all the way home, Hermione said, hopping down from the wall. If not for me, then just to feel this delicious breeze. She smiled up at him and he held his breath a moment.  
  
_Hermione, someday that smile's going to get some bloke into trouble over you, _Ron thought. A little uninvited voice came then to respond to that thought ..._And something tells me I just may know that bloke much too well.  
  
_Ron finally took a breath and slid from the wall himself, pushing his fallen sleeves up to his elbows as instructed. All right, then.   
  
As they began to walk down the mortar footing just wide enough for one, Hermione took the lead. Suddenly, she turned to him. Oh! I forgot to tell you! I talked to your mum and she wants us to take a break from working in the shed tomorrow--you know, just relax and have fun--maybe have a picnic or something.  
  
Nearly running over her as she stopped so quickly, Ron was lost in thought a moment. Hold on. This was_ my_ mum you talked to? Are you sure? Determined little red-haired woman about so tall... Ron held his hand at his shoulder level. Oh, now I get it. You needed a reading day, and mentioned it to Mum and since you're the guest, she was happy to oblige...   
  
Hermione looked a bit affronted. No. I...  
  
He raised his eyebrows at her. _Ha! Got it in one, I did!_  
  
--I haven't even taken my books out yet, she finished quickly.  
  
Ron thought a moment. _You know, I don't think she has. Something's very strange about that._ Two and a half days and he hadn't seen a book in her hand once. She'd talked about what she read in Bermuda, but had spent most of her time at the Burrow talking _with _him or doing things with his family.  
  
And wanting to take a break from practicing all of those spells in the shed? This soon, when we have all summer to take a break'? Are you all right, Hermione? You must have snuffed up a bit too much _Simple Slim's _ today.  
  
Frowning, Hermione turned to continue walking and stayed very quiet until the two of them were near the bottom of the mortar edging. Without warning, she wheeled around and threw her arms around his middle, burrowing her head into his chest and holding on tight.  
  
Ron was stunned and stood there with his arms at odd angles. He had walked right into her hug by simple virtue of not stopping in time. Not that he had any real objection to it--_bloody hell, why would I?_ --and it certainly wasn't the first time she'd done this to him.   
  
But something was much different than in third-year. Her hair smelled of lilacs and the warmth of her against him made his blood pound instantly. Ron lifted his arms and circled them solidly but gently around her. He held her to him even though she was likely being thumped in the head by his heart trying to find its way to her right through his chest wall. As they stood there on the darkening hillside he didn't let go for a number of minutes. But then, he noted warmly, neither did she.  
  
Finally Hermione released him and he loosened his hold. She began to look up, but seemed to think better of it once she remembered she'd find his questioning eyes there. So she swung around and continued down the path without saying another word.  
  
He followed her lead, walking silently next to her through the balmy night and the luscious breeze, his mind abuzz with a million thoughts, only half of them coherent. The rest were re-plays of jolts and tingles and feelings of wonder that he'd absorbed in those two or three minutes. But he wasn't sure if it meant the same to her--_hell, maybe she even hugs Harry for no reason like that -- who knows?  
_  
Still, even that thought couldn't keep his mind and body from remembering it over and over again. Once at the Burrow, she stepped up to go through the back door into the kitchen, and he pulled open the screen door for her to pass. Just as she came closest to him, he looked down at her with the question in his eyes.   
  
She began to look up again, but still could barely meet his gaze. He sensed that she knew the question was there, even knew what it was, but she took a different tack to avoid it. Quite simple, really, she said very quietly, flashing him a shy smile and trying to act as if she was in complete control. From that day I came--you owed me one.  
  
And with that, she entered the Burrow, on her way to join the loud and raucous game of Exploding Snap now taking place in the Weasley living room.


	6. Regrets

_A/N: Thank you, thank you again to my talented and amazing betas **ChristinaTeresa, Seakays**, and **sunshyndaisies**! You are the best!   
_  
  
Chapter 6   
Regrets

These studies are very important, you know, Hermione whispered to herself, practicing. She had her satchel open in front of her and was rapidly tossing in items that had obviously been thrown onto the bed haphazardly. Without them, we can't understand other creatures like the yeti the way we should. If we don't understand their needs, how can we live harmoniously, and be certain that we're not affecting them in negative ways? How can we have faith in ourselves to--  
  
Here you go, a voice said behind her.  
  
Hermione jumped and gasped, whipping around to find Ginny standing in the doorway and holding out a gold hair band.  
  
Sorry, didn't mean to startle you, Ginny said. Just didn't want you to forget this--you left it downstairs last night.  
  
Hermione let out the gasp she'd been holding and reached out to take the hair band. That's okay. I just--thought you were Ron.  
  
Well, I've got to get down and help Mum with breakfast, but... Ginny stopped and looked at her warily. Hold on-- you _have_ told him, haven't you?  
  
Hermione swallowed and licked her lips nervously. Erm...not exactly. No.  
  
Ginny's eyebrows arched as she seemed to take in the full meaning of the statement. Right then. I'll be leaving now--this moment-- because I don't want to be here when _he_ gets here... With that, she trailed off and was gone.  
  
Hermione groaned. She half-wished that she could disappear just as quickly as Ginny had. _Maybe that's it,_ she thought. _You've had a nice few days here--yesterday was especially wonderful with the picnic by the pond and making ice cream last evening...   
  
_Hedwig had even arrived in the midst of the picnic with a letter from Harry, so it truly felt as if the three best friends were all together, at least in a way. The snowy owl had joined the picnic herself for a short time to gobble up some meat strips Ron had pulled from a chicken leg, then she flew off for a drink and a rest in Pig's cage.   
_  
Perhaps everyone got their fill of one another and you could just slip away when Dad comes to pick you up... Then later you could send an owl...  
  
_She huffed at herself in exasperation. _You coward! You came here to tell him, and just because you haven't yet doesn't mean you can let yourself off the hook, especially after the other night on the hill when he was looking at you so...so...and the whole thing was so...whatever that was!  
  
_Thinking, she pursed her lips and pushed them to one side, just as she had her thoughts about those strange, wonderful and yet somehow annoying feelings for Ron. Besides, she was leaving.  
  
The speech-for-Ron practice began anew as she folded a jumper and shoved it into her bag. These yeti have rights and needs, too, you know. They shouldn't be treated as mere objects when they can communicate those needs to one another and to us. Their lives may not be as structured as ours, but that doesn't mean they shouldn't have every right to respect, and basic needs, and love. So that's where we come in--  
  
Come in? Okay, if you say so, a deeper voice than Ginny's said jovially.  
  
Hermione jumped and gasped again, turning to throw her body in front of her open satchel on the bed. Why do you always have to sneak up on people?  
  
Ron stood just inside the doorway to Ginny's room, looking totally baffled. Me? Sneak up on people? Blimey, haven't been accused of _that_ too often. People usually tell me they can hear me coming a mile away. He casually reached into the bag of Bertie Botts Beans he held in one palm and drew out a few beans, dropping them into his mouth.  
  
Well, I didn't! Hermione said irritably.  
  
All right, Ron said curtly, apparently trying not to snap back at her. He rolled his eyes and mumbled under his breath, _Someone_ woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.  
  
She glared at him and realized this was starting out all wrong. She had meant to be kind and mature and calm and explain just why it was so important for her to leave to do this internship. Then he would tell her it was all right, and that he understood it was necessary for her to take advantage of an opportunity like this, and that he was very happy for her... _   
  
Oh, come on Hermione, this is **Ron!**   
****_****Snapping out of her reverie with that thought, she noticed that he had come several steps closer, looking around as he walked and chewed on his Bertie Botts.   
  
Who were you talking to, anyway-- Ginny? Ron asked. Where'd she go?  
  
He_ wasn't_ going to make her feel like an idiot for talking to herself. He wasn't going to throw her off-task like that. Not when she had to make him understand, and break it to him gently, and not feel guilty herself for ruining his summer plans. _ Deep breath, think calm..._ _Why_ do you have to chew those things so loudly? _How did that slip out?  
  
What _is your problem, Hermione? Ron asked. I think it's a lot more than my chewing.  
  
No, it's not! she said, something inside of her hoping that her attitude might keep him from coming any closer. Obviously, you've already had breakfast--  
  
I haven't! Ron protested. I was waiting for you to come out. But I'm starving, so I brought these along to get me by.  
  
To get you by? Hermione questioned. You couldn't make it all the way downstairs before you had to have something to eat, so you're eating those disgusting things before breakfast?  
  
Why do you care? Ron asked, sounding just a little irritable himself now.  
  
Good question, Ron! Why do I? Hermione folded her arms across her chest and stood in front of the bed, her brow furrowed, her mood resolute.  
  
Ron started shaking his head and turned toward the door. I don't know _what's_ wrong with you, but I'm leaving.  
  
_Good! _she thought. _Maybe I can get away with this after all!   
_  
Hold on. That one wasn't a voice in her mind. _Oh no...  
  
_Ron had stopped. He took several steps toward her and reached for her elbow to gently move her aside; apparently he'd spotted what was on the bed.  
  
Hermione tried to remain steadfast in her stance, but his soft, concerned tone of voice and the feeling of him so close was causing her to panic inside. Without letting go of her elbow, he turned her to face him.  
  
Ron stared straight into her eyes with a look that both broke her heart and made her want to slap him, all at the same time. But much to her chagrin, all it did was make her eyes water--_and no, I won't cry! I **won't! **  
  
_What's going on? he asked in a low, soft, somber voice.  
  
She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing would come. Frustrated with both herself and the situation, her brimming eyes nearly gave her away by pushing a tear over the edge, but she looked down just in time.   
  
Oh, _why_could he do this to her? It always happened this way. She was going to be so controlled and so calm. Things were going to go so easily. Then he'd look at her that way and it all fell apart, all her plans--everything--and all that was left was the two of them. He'd already proven he knew more than one way to disarm her-- and for this one he didn't even need a wand._  
  
_ he said, leaning down a bit to draw her eyes back up to his.  
  
I--I--I have to leave, she said quickly.  
  
Now? Today? Ron asked, first with confusion and then a sudden tone of concern in his voice. Is everything all right? Are your parents okay? Has something happened?  
  
Oh, it was getting worse. Now he was concerned about her and her family and wanting to take care of her. His fingertips were hot on her elbow. They're fine--everything with my family's fine.  
  
Ron paused a moment in thought, but seemed unable to find an answer.   
  
The tone of his question was so honest, so searching, so heartrending that she wanted to scream and pound his chest with her fists. Because it was either that or throw herself into his arms and hold him tight and she didn't dare do that again to her best friend. Not when she was about to walk out on him.  
  
It's important, Ron, she explained after a deep breath. It's something important. It's important to me and to science --and for everyone to understand that what we do affects all creatures, magical and otherwise, so drastically that their lives are changed, and it's just not right for us to make such decisions without--  
  
Ron dropped his hand away. His voice was suddenly starting to sound just a little dangerous. Oh, I see. It's all coming clear to me now. This is about one of your causes, isn't it? It wasn't the man with the dog that set you off reading all of those animal rights books. It was this, whatever it is--  
  
Ginny appeared momentarily at the doorway. Breakfast! ...Er, never mind. She had started to speak before she glanced at both of their faces, then instantly she wheeled around and just as quickly disappeared.  
  
No...no. I didn't know about this then. It's an internship, Ron--an internship with a very famous zoolowizard, she explained, trying to keep her voice even. _ It'll be easier if we fight, _she thought. _It'll be easier to go if he's being hateful. Maybe it'll be easier for him if he's angry with me, too._   
  
So tell me about it then, Hermione, he said sarcastically, flopping onto the bed with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes narrowed. Apparently _I've _got plenty of time and nowhere to go. Sit down and tell me _all _about it.  
  
Hermione, feeling as if she was under the gun, told him several of the very few things she knew about the internship so far. Ron spent the entire time staring at her with a distrustful sneer on his face.  
  
It's funded by the Ministry, but-- she tried to mention rapidly in the midst of a lot of other information.  
  
The Ministry? Ron said incredulously, picking it up instantly. After what we've just been through? You didn't learn anything about staying away from the Ministry from that?  
  
But this doesn't have anything to do with the political side of the Ministry, Ron, it's all scientific.  
  
Oh, yes, like you found out with Rita Skeeter? It's not political, it's just--writing?  
  
Hermione had been trying not to get angry, trying not to let him get his way. He'd already been yanking her emotions wherever he wanted to lead them. He wasn't going to make her take the bait, even if she thought it might be easier that way. But now she was getting past wanting to make it easy on him.  
  
Dr. Null is a very famous zoolowizard, Ron, she said determinedly. McGonagall and Hagrid had to write recommendations for me to work in this position--a long time ago. This could be very good for a career, you know. If I get a strong recommendation from him, it could help me a great deal later should I decide to go into this line of work--  
  
Ron glared at her, his arms still crossed as he leaned back insolently. Oh, _careers! _And how are you going to make sure to get a good recommendation from him? Rather dashing young fellow, is he? Or then--'young' doesn't really matter to you now, does it?  
  
She couldn't believe her ears. What? _What?!_ Just what are you trying to say?  
  
Just make sure he's not trying to research you while you're researching for him, he said snidely.  
  
Hermione felt her temples pounding as she narrowed her eyes at him this time. _He had no right to say that. Of all the--  
  
_Oh, don't be ridiculous, Ron! she said loudly. He's perfectly harmless! He's an old man!  
  
Really? How old, would you say?  
  
I don't know! Hermione spat back, standing up from where she'd been seated on the edge of the bed. He could be so infuriating! Thirty-five! Forty! I don't know--he's an _old_ man!  
  
Yeah, but--so was Lockhart. So's Vicky, for that matter.  
  
Hermione was becoming incensed. Vicky's not that old-- I mean, she spluttered, realizing what she'd just said. Don't call him Vicky!!  
  
Ron did something very strange then. The corners of his lips turned up just a little, and he stared at her from his position still seated on the bed. But his stormy blue eyes were so cold she nearly shivered.  
  
Hermione looked down at herself and realized that --still-- he'd managed to manipulate her emotions every step of the way. And she'd done so well this past year with trying to keep_ him_ in his place so that he couldn't do this to her. How could he do it so masterfully any time he felt like it?  
  
Reckon you'd better keep packing then, Ron said evenly but with cold, brutal sarcasm as he stood and headed toward the door. When you go down to breakfast, tell them not to bother waiting for me. I'm not very hungry any more.  
  
_Don't give in, Hermione, don't give in!_ All right, she said, holding her chin up to prove she was fine.  
  
Don't worry about us--I'll take care of London somehow--and Harry-- he and I can help them out at Headquarters when the time comes, I suppose. Ron was leaning on the doorframe now, looking back at her as she stood stiffly next to the bed.  
  
She knew he was trying to make her feel guilty.   
  
Reckon I'll see you on the train then, if you're back by then, or if they haven't made you a full-time research assistant. You know I have no doubt you could do it brilliantly, he said snidely, almost turning to leave. Oh, there was one thing I almost forgot to ask.  
  
Hermione sighed, feeling weary and deflated and she hadn't even had breakfast yet. What is it?  
  
he started, but his voice broke and cut him off. Suddenly all of the sarcasm and coldness and danger had fallen away and that heart-wrenching tone from earlier was back. When were you going to tell me, Hermione? Or were you just planning on sneaking off to leave me wondering what happened?  
  
I-- I--came to tell you, she said. That's why I was here...the past few days...  
  
Ron nodded slowly and sadly. Well, then --I reckon that's something.  
  
She watched his fiery hair disappear around the doorjamb corner and finally felt that hard-fought tear trickle down one cheek.  
  
How she wished he'd yelled instead.

Damn it all to_ bloody_ hell!  
  
Ron paced his room furiously, ignoring the fact that it was a very warm night and a sheen of perspiration already covered his face. When Hermione left she must have seen fit to take the lovely breeze with her, for not a twig was stirring and the bright orange curtains hung limply from their rods. But the breeze wasn't all she'd taken. Every single hope Ron had for salvaging this lousy summer might as well have packed itself in the satchel and headed off to parts unknown with her.  
  
A loud plop and a sound like a bucket being overturned came through the ceiling, but he hardly noticed. It certainly didn't slow his pace. Nothing would, nothing except knowing she was going to be safe - and now that her welfare would be in the hands of the Ministry, he was even more uneasy.   
  
War was coming--everyone knew it. One day the papers would try to gloss over the clues, spinning the acknowledgment of the Dark Lord's return in whatever direction the Ministry wished for the week. The next day, the _Prophet_ was full of articles from anonymous contributors' speculating on when and how', whether with skirmishes or with one big attack, clearly showing there would be no avoiding the conflict between Voldemort's growing forces of evil and those for the common good. Everything had been deathly quiet so far this summer, but it could all start in a heartbeat and no one would be at all surprised.   
  
What if something happened and Hermione was far away? What if she was on her own - without her parents, without anyone from Hogwarts, without him and Harry, or even Neville-- without _anyone_ to help her? After cleaning up and doing its best to ignore the Department of Mysteries break-in and the ensuing battle, the Ministry had, of course, gone on blindly about its business as if everything was perfectly normal. So they thought nothing of continuing their scientific studies' and their psychological research' for the betterment of wizardkind'. But Ron hadn't thought Hermione to be the type to fall for such nonsense. How could she be so blind?  
  
The trap door in the ceiling opened several inches and stayed ajar, though no other noises issued forth. Ron kept pacing, thinking, cursing, wishing he hadn't been so bloody furious with her earlier today when she was here so he could have actually helped himself by getting more information.  
  
What are you lookin' at?! he snapped, stopping to glare up at the black opening in the trap door. He knew it had been open for at least five minutes, but kept hoping the ghoul would just leave him alone. He wanted everyone and everything to leave him alone. You'd better close that thing and stay up there tonight if you know what's good for you. And keep it bloody well quiet for a change!  
  
The trap door jostled a few seconds and then fell shut with a thunk.  
  
Ruddy snooping spirit, Ron mumbled to himself.  
  
He'd sent Pig off with a letter for Hermione, hoping that the little owl would have the fortitude to hold out against Hermione's possible ranting and bring back a response. The letter was direct and blunt and almost demanded that Hermione let him and Harry know where she'd be and how they could get in touch with her if necessary. _And it certainly wasn't signed with love' either,_ he thought.  
  
It was almost nightfall when Ron heard the _flutter-swish_ of little wings outside his open window. He'd been lying on the bed staring blankly at the ceiling for the better part of an hour after picking aimlessly at a dinner that tasted to him like Professor Sprout's peat mulch always smelled.  
  
He knew there wasn't much chance of the sound being Errol yet, because it had taken Ron another half hour after Pig left to get a letter off to Harry telling him what had happened. Sure enough, Pig had managed to make his way through the litter of fruit bat babies that regularly practiced their newfound ability to fly just outside Ron's window at this time of night. The little owl landed on the sill with a tired thump, breathing hard and looking around frantically for fresh water.  
  
Ready and waiting in your cage, mate, Ron said, untying the parchment from the little owl's leg. Once he was done, he lifted Pig on one finger and crossed the room. You did a bang-up job for a little bloke, Pig. There and back again that fast! And this time it really mattered -- any post owl would be proud. If I ever tell you any differently again, you have my permission to ignore me.  
  
Pig stared attentively up at Ron, his huge golden eyes already drooping with sleep. But Ron's words seemed to make him feel proud and he sighed contentedly before settling in for a drink and a long nap.  
  
Ron collected and unfurled the parchment, expecting to find a terse answer from Hermione, but expecting her to answer him nonetheless. Yet what he read only left him with more questions. For one, she claimed that didn't know exactly where the wildlife refuge was.   
  
_Maybe better that she doesn't say anyway,_ Ron thought. _I'm still getting used to these bloody Order restrictions on letters..._ He couldn't imagine who would try to intercept their letters and who would have had time tonight; but on second thought, he knew it wouldn't be wise to pinpoint her whereabouts, just in case there was anyone about who would be anxious to find a young girl of mixed magical heritage alone and vulnerable. Supposedly, she and her parents would be given the exact location during her meeting at the Ministry the following day, immediately before she departed by Portkey.   
  
Hermione did, however, tersely tell him that she was only allowed one owl a day because too many of them flying about disturbed the very creatures they would be working with. Under the circumstances, she thought the owl would usually be reserved to communicate with her parents because they had been so overly concerned about her after her injury.  
  
One owl! One lousy owl! Ron said aloud._ I know her parents deserve to know first, but they can't know the kinds of danger that could find her from the wizarding world--they just wouldn't be able to understand. _He looked at Pig, already asleep in his cage.  
  
I'll give you an hour, Pig, he whispered even though the owl was soundly sleeping. Then you've gotta go back.  
  
Ron sat down to write the new letter, trying to explain to Hermione just how dangerous it could be to be unable to communicate with her in some way. He argued with himself about how stupid it sounded because she would be _working_ with those from the wizarding world, but the world was so divided these days--there were only certain people who could be trusted.  
  
Several times he got up to pace about the room again. Gently he tried to explain to Hermione that her parents couldn't possibly help her in case she managed to find trouble from a magical source. He re-read the letter and realized that it sounded pleadingly pathetic, and mostly as if he was doing all the pleading. _I haven't heard back from Harry yet, but you know he'd feel the same, _he wrote at the end.  
  
The letter was finished, ready to be sent. But the post owl wasn't yet ready to take it. Ron tried to wake Pig after the hour he'd thought about letting him sleep. But the little owl just barely fluttered his eyes at Ron's touch, then slumped back against the side of his cage, fast asleep in an instant.  
  
Ron sighed and walked to the window, staring into the darkness. She was leaving tomorrow--time was short. He had to talk to her--to get through to her how important it was that she find a way to communicate. Maybe she really did know where she'd be, but knew well enough not to send it in the letter--perhaps in person she'd tell him. A month could be a very long time. There were certainly many ways she could find herself injured or worse in that time should war break out, even if she was in the care of the Ministry--or _especially,_ in the care of the Ministry, for that matter.   
  
But how could he get to her? Floo powder? No, Hermione's fireplace wasn't connected to the Network. Ministry regulations specifically stated that fireplaces from households of Muggle disposition' were not to be attached. At the moment, there was very little room at the Ministry for special permission to be granted for anything having to do with Muggle households'.  
  
A Portkey was out of the question -- not enough time and a permit was necessary for that, too.   
  
He had no way to talk to her again before she left, _unless...under cover of darkness... _An idea was starting to form in his head--a very risky idea as far as how much trouble he'd be in if he was caught, but possibly the only answer nonetheless. Ron looked toward his well-serviced Cleansweep, mounted on the wall above his bed.   
  
But could he get away with it? He'd heard people at Hogwarts boasting about flying when they were away from school and under unauthorized conditions. Most of the bragging came from bloody Malfoy, whose father could fix' almost anything with the Ministry even if Draco should somehow be discovered. Yet when one needs to break the rules, why not follow the lead of the expert rule breakers?   
  
If he flew low enough, Ron thought--on short hops--sometimes the magic of flying didn't register with the Ministry for some reason. How often had they practiced Quidditch in the old apple orchard without getting the dreaded reminder notices about underage magic? He was fairly certain he remembered where Hermione had said her house was; he reckoned he could be there by midnight...if he was successful in getting her to listen to reason, maybe he could be back before dawn...  
  
Just in case, while he finished thinking this out, he felt he ought to take time to check the status of the household. Ron had an idea that everyone was already in bed--the silence had told him so--but he wasn't willing to risk such an important undertaking by being careless.  
  
Ron checked for light under the door in his parent's room. There was none, so he eased the door open a crack, far enough to hear his father's snoring. But he had to be certain his mother was there as well. At least if his father was snoring, he knew he wouldn't be interrupting -- well -- he was old enough to know that seven Weasley children did _not_ come from his father spending all night snoring. Opening the door a bit wider to find it very dark in their room, he could barely make out a Molly-sized mound on his mother's side of the bed, so he was probably safe. But he'd listen very carefully while he made his final preparations just to be sure.  
  
Fred and George were staying the night at home, too, but aside from the possibility that they might want to come along, he really had no worries about their letting on to Mum and Dad about him. In any case, he knew the twins had to get the shop open early in the morning, so it looked like they had trundled off to Dreamland as well.  
  
Ginny? Well -- he wasn't so sure that she was asleep. Plus he was a bit more unsure if she would tell on him or not, too, but there was one big reason that he didn't want her to know his plans. He happened to know that whether or not Ginny actually knew anything, his mum automatically assumed she did, and would question the poor girl senseless. Ginny had often complained to him about this before, because she really could be the great source of information' Ron had told Hermione she was. But this way, if his little sister didn't know, she didn't have to make a decision whether to cover for him or not--it was already made.  
  
Stepping quietly to her door, Ron saw that there were indeed candles burning in her room, but he listened for few minutes without hearing a sound. Her door wasn't completely closed so he pushed just a little, only to find Ginny fast asleep and sprawled across the bed with the latest edition of that rag, _The Quibbler,_ spread open next to her. Knowing he took a chance on waking her, Ron grabbed the wand from his back pocket and uttered a spell as he pointed it at the candles, extinguishing them. But she didn't move a muscle.  
  
_Perfect,_ Ron thought._ They'll never know.  
  
_Ron slipped up the stairs to his room, purposely avoiding the one where Fred and George had dropped a lit Filibuster Firework and blown out a step several years earlier. It had been rapidly (and shoddily) repaired by them with magic before their mother appeared (though they had trouble explaining the smoldering once she did), but it still squeaked terribly and rocked ominously when stepped on.  
  
Yet, Ron made it to his room without incident. After changing into warmer, dark clothes, he took a deep breath and looked at the wall above his bed. His shining Cleansweep hung there, where he'd painstakingly cleared a space and pounded in nails to hold it secure and safe--until just such a moment as this. He'd thought the next thing he'd be using it for was Quidditch practice with Ginny or George and Fred--he'd never considered the fact that he might be flying to Hermione's house instead.  
  
Remembering a hot, thirsty trip in a flying Ford Anglia several years ago with Harry, Ron decided to fill an old flask with water and threw it into his weathered school rucksack to take along. Opening his bedside drawer, he also threw in his last bag of Bertie Botts Beans and a few Peanut Poltergeists from last summer. (Honeydukes had been introducing them then and he'd grabbed a handful. Ron didn't like them very much, but he supposed they could be filling.) He smelled one to see if a year had done anything drastic to it, but it seemed perfectly fine, just a bit harder than intended. He brushed a few quill shavings and bits of lint from the packages and tossed them in.   
  
From a small cloth bag under his mattress, Ron removed the two Galleons he'd been saving to spend with Hermione over the summer, along with the few Sickles and Knuts there, and shoved them into his pants pocket. _Reckon I won't be needing them to spend **with **her now, _he thought bitterly, then reminded himself he needed to stay focused on getting_ to_ her instead of getting angry with her, which had got him into this mess in the first place.  
  
Ron mentally checked for anything else he might need on his rather lengthy flight there and back again. Unable to think of anything further, he slipped his arms through the straps of the rucksack, climbed onto his bed on his knees and carefully pulled the Cleansweep down. On his way out of the door, broomstick in hand, he stopped to look into the cage on his bureau. Sweet dreams, Pig, he muttered, looking at the little owl sleeping peacefully. I'm the messenger this time.  
  
Ron stepped carefully down the stairs again, listening cautiously for any sound that might alert him to someone being up and about. He heard nothing and was trying to decide if heading out the back door or the front would be less noisy. _The kitchen, _he thought. After all, he'd just re-oiled that bloody screen door the other day--he was quite sure it wouldn't squeak--as long as he didn't let it slam.  
  
The clock chimed softly at eleven o'clock -- he was already running late for what he'd planned --maybe he could be at Hermione's house by twelve-thirty? He crossed the darkened living room, the only light a rather bluish glow leaking in through the windows from the moonless night outside. _Two more doors to go...  
  
_Ron edged the swinging door to the kitchen open a few inches, making sure that his broomstick didn't bump the sides and make a clatter. He had nearly pushed the handle into the open space --   
  
_Wham!!! _Something slammed into the door from the other side, shoving Ron's unsuspecting body backwards. He tried to catch his balance, stumbling rapidly until he finally ran short of living room floor and crashed into the bookshelf Ginny had cleaned a week before.  
  
Forcing himself to freeze the instant he could manage it, he listened in the darkness._  
  
_


	7. Spoken to Sharpely

_A/N: Once again I wish to thank my betas, **Christina Teresa**, **Seakays**, and **sunshyndaisies.**Trust me,this story just wouldn't be the same without them. NZ  
_   
  
Chapter Seven   
Spoken to Sharpely

It was later than he'd hoped to leave, but it didn't change the fact that he still needed to stop her, or at least make her understand the importance of communicating with him and Harry regularly--somehow. What made Hermione even _think_ she could be safe so far away at a time like this in the wizarding world?   
  
He'd made it down the stairs and through the living room, all without hearing a sound--if anyone caught him he'd be trounced for sure. But when he'd checked on everyone earlier, they were all asleep--so far everything was going swimmingly...  
  
Ron edged the swinging door to the kitchen open a few inches, making sure that his broomstick didn't bump the sides and make a clatter. He had nearly pushed the handle into the open space --   
  
_Wham!!! _Something slammed into the door from the other side, shoving Ron's unsuspecting body backwards. He tried to catch his balance, stumbling rapidly until he finally ran short of living room floor and crashed into the bookshelf Ginny had cleaned the week before. Ron instantly realized that if whatever hit him planned to kill him, his mum would arm-wrestle it for the chance to have a go first if he broke anything on that shelf. So he dropped his broom and turned to hold the bookshelf up. Luckily still on his feet, he steadied the bookshelf to keep it from toppling on his head until it balanced itself.  
  
said an irritable voice in the darkness. Who's there? Are you all right? Oh, this blessed tea...  
  
_Bloody. Bloody. Hell. _It's me, Mum, he said dully.  
_  
_Ron heard a whisper and a wand-light went on, quickly followed by another whisper that brought on the oil lamps.  
  
Molly said from across the room, as soon as her eyes could focus in the sudden light. Oh, I'm so sorry! Are you all right, dear? I was just getting some tea to drink while I put away all those clean clothes stacked on the bed. Your father can sleep through _anything_ these days--  
  
He could feel his broomstick lying across his right trainer. _I might be able to explain myself out of the rest of it... _Pulling his toe out from under the handle of the broom, he quickly but subtly tried to push the entire broomstick under the end of the divan with his foot. He heard his mother right behind him now and turned to face her.  
  
What were you doing, dear? I didn't hear you come down, Molly fussed. She was distracted by the front of her dressing gown, which seemed to have an enormous, wet tea stain all down the front of it; she began to brush at it futilely with her hand.   
  
I didn't hear you coming, either, Ron said, trying to keep the irritation from his voice. I was -- getting some -- some water.  
  
Well --here --let me see if you're--   
  
_Uh-oh,_ Ron thought. _She's seeing, all right. _The look of concern on Molly's face slowly began to slip away as she looked Ron up and down, while a look of curiosity then appeared in its place. Brow-furrowing suspicion followed quickly after that.  
  
You were going to get water? she asked, leaning to one side to apparently confirm that yes, he was indeed wearing a rucksack. Of course, she had to have noticed that before when his back was turned, but she wanted _him_ to know that she noticed it -- and that was an entirely different matter.  
  
Well, yeah, but-- Ron hadn't had time to consider a back-up story.  
  
Just _where_ were you going to get water, may I ask? The next county?  
  
Ron noted that her voice was developing that--that _edge_ to it. That edge had never in his lifetime meant anything good was coming his way.  
  
Ron forced out. I was going to get the water in the kitchen and then go out back--  
  
To do what? You know, it's not much cooler in the back yard than here, and it's a very warm night, wouldn't you agree?  
  
_Oh, no, she's closing in..._Yes, it's very warm, but--  
  
So there must be a good reason why you're dressed rather warmly. And all in very dark clothes as well. You know, I'll bet it would be difficult to see you in the dark like that, she said, sounding dangerously matter-of-fact.  
  
Ron got the distinct impression that his mum was toying with him while she found the perfect angle to move in for the kill. But if there was still any chance to save himself... Oh, really? he chuckled. He did his damnedest to sound surprised at that notion and looked down at his clothes. You think so? There was nowhere to run -- he was still backed against the bookshelf.   
  
She said nothing else, just took a step closer to peer up into his face. It wasn't quite as funny these days, now that it was a real possibility, but Fred, George, and Ron had all agreed long ago that if they were ever captured and interrogated by Death Eaters, trying to survive one of their mum's interrogations was bloody good practice. _  
_  
she said after what felt to Ron like a very long time. Well-- I never did get my tea--at least, not where it ought to have been. She smiled at him much too sweetly--_damn, this isn't over yet! _Why don't we just go into the kitchen and I'll make some for the both of us? I'll ice yours if you like.  
  
Ron tried not to cringe outwardly._ Yeah--she'll ice **me, **more like it! _He resisted the desperate urge to look at the clock-- he was losing precious time. Erm -- all right. There was nothing else for it--she would accept nothing less and he knew that. And furthermore, he knew that this kind of chat over tea' was the Molly Weasley equivalent of a lead pipe to the shins.  
  
She had started to turn away when Ron heard the tiny little voice from the shelf behind him. He wheeled around swiftly to see if he could find the problem before she heard, but there were just too many things on that shelf. A figurine of a sweet little shepherd girl was lying on its side, squealing that she needed to be uprighted, while the stiff-legged, glassy-eyed lambs next to her on her pedestal stared accusingly into Ron's face.  
  
He rolled his eyes and reached carefully between the shelves to lift her up.   
  
But the shepherd girl would have none of it. Don't you touch me, you, you-- oaf! You're the one who knocked me down -- I saw you coming!  
  
Ron sighed and withdrew his hand. _You know,_ _maybe I shouldn't even consider dealing with any more females today...  
  
_Worse yet, his mum had finally heard and turned to see the figurine's objection to Ron's help. Oh, you poor dear! Molly muttered to her, moving toward the bookshelf...   
  
...Until she stumbled. Mrs. Weasley fell forward onto Ron, who caught her easily and set her back upright. But he closed his eyes and shuddered in anticipation of what was to come. He knew precisely what his mother had tripped over.  
  
Molly looked down for a moment and then back up again, this time with fire in her eyes. Ron knew now that his conviction was complete. Odd place for a broomstick, that, she said in a very calculated voice, ...and indeed under very odd circumstances with you, Ronald, my son.   
  
_Oh gods... _he winced. _ Not -- Ronald, my son' already!  
  
_Any thoughts on the matter you'd wish to share? his mum asked sweetly.  
  
Ron's brow furrowed. _But if I give in now, the whole plan gets trashed..._ _What am I going to do about Hermione?_ But it probably didn't matter anyway, unless he could get his mum on his side. The chances of that, however, were currently running somewhere between zero and none.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Ron started in. Mum, it's Hermione. Do you know what she's doing? Completely mental, that girl! She's --   
  
Going to work as a Ministry intern. Anything else? Molly said dryly.  
  
Ron's jaw dropped for a moment. You knew? You _knew?!_ When did you find out?  
  
When she asked to come and stay earlier than planned, Molly answered, several days ago. But she asked me not to say anything -- she wanted to tell you--herself.  
  
Which means, as usual, I'm the last to know, Ron said snidely. But she has to go off somewhere with these scientists and we don't know where she'll be. She says they can only have one owl a day and that one's for her parents. So what do we do if something happens? Not regular things, you know--something bad?  
  
Molly softened a little. I thought about her being so far away, too, with the world...circumstances...as they are. But as careless as the Ministry officials are, I can't see that they can afford for there to be any problems--especially now. Working with Dr. Null should help protect her in a way--he's a very high-profile scientist. If anything happened to him, the news would have it all over the wireless and the _Prophet _in moments-  
  
From way out --wherever they're going to be? Ron asked in exasperation. You know how fast everything happened with Dad and Harry and the snakebite -- and you know how close that came to being deadly. Hermione can't go without leaving us some way to communicate with her -- she_ can't! _She shouldn't be going at all!  
  
We can't go changing everything about our lives for what _might_ come, Ron. Once we do, they've already won, his mum said. I can understand why you're worried about her, but the Ministry doesn't dare let anything happen now during a study that _they're_ conducting--everyone is too watchful, too disturbed over what's happened already. And if we can get some Order members to perhaps keep an eye on her through their contacts...   
  
Order members? Ron said loudly. They're stretched too thin as it is!  
  
This is very important work she'll be doing, too--very good for a future career, Molly said stubbornly. If everyone would focus on making a better future for our world instead of making an issue of the differences between us, we wouldn't even be having this conversation.  
  
If she does this, she may not _have_ a future! Ron insisted, his voice rising.  
  
Shhh! Do _not_ raise your voice at me! If you wake this whole household... his mum warned, glancing back toward the stairs.  
  
And you think the Death Eaters are going to listen to any excuses? From what I've seen, they're more likely to blast first and ask questions later!  
  
There's no reason to believe there'll be any Death Eaters where she is. She's likely safer there than anywhere. So many of them are in Azkaban now and she'll be back long before they start sending Death Eaters out to collect Ministry interns, Molly reasoned.  
  
Ron just couldn't understand why his mum was being so stubborn. Mum! You know how things have been lately! And you know she's --she's not a pureblood! He hadn't meant to shout.  
  
Neither am I --and neither are you, no matter what we're labeled! Anyway, all of that pureblood' nonsense is a ridiculous matter of proportion! This is the last time I'm warning you--_don't_ you shout at me! You're already in big, big trouble and if you can't discuss this civilly... Molly took a deep breath, apparently to calm herself. This, Ron, is the heart of the matter. I hate to be the one to break this to you, but you have no right to tell her what to do. This is between her and her parents-- they've made their choice --so you can just butt yourself right out!  
  
But how can her parents know the danger she could be in from our world? She really wants to do this--and when Hermione wants to do something, she doesn't always give people all the details... Ron squirmed; he was becoming so agitated he was having trouble just standing in one place.  
  
Their family's decision is none of your business, Ron! But what _is_ your business is that you haven't told your own family about what _your_ intentions were tonight! Molly's eyes narrowed. With this! She leaned down and grabbed the broomstick from under the sofa, holding it out at arm's length almost in Ron's face. And this! She grabbed the strap on the rucksack, yanking him forward a bit.  
  
It wasn't a good time for her to strike a nerve, but Ron knew she had always been very good at bad timing. Do you want to know, Mum? Do you _really_ want to know? I'm flying to Hermione's house tonight-- to talk some sense into her!  
  
Flying? You're going to_ fly _there--yourself? his mother said, smirking and obviously amused by the thought. You don't even know where her house is! Or if you'd make it before sunrise!  
  
His mum's scornful dismissal of his plan didn't help matters a bit. He knew he was treading a dangerous path, but something kept pushing him forward. I _do_ know, he said, gritting his teeth. I have her address. And if I can't find where she lives, I know how to get to Harry--he'll help me. He'll be just as angry with her for doing this as I am!  
  
Don't you _dare_ take Harry away from that home! Molly warned dangerously. The Order would be on you in an instant--and right now that house is his best protection!  
  
Yeah--the Order protected him damned well last year, now didn't they? Ron said sarcastically.  
  
Don't you take that tone with me, Ronald Weasley! And watch your language! Molly snapped, leaning up close to Ron's chin and wagging her finger at him.  
  
Ron was distracted for a moment by a movement over her shoulder and across the room. There were spectators on the stairs. He and his mother must have indeed awakened the household with their shouting (minus his exhausted father), but Ron knew exactly what those three were doing now--taking bets on what his punishment would be. The Weasley children had long ago given up on betting who would win the argument. As Fred so aptly put it, That's a sucker's bet --none of _us_ ever does.  
  
He knew he'd made a rash decision in saying he'd get Harry-- in fact, as good an idea as it was, it hadn't occurred to him until just now. But now he was left to explain his way out. If Harry says no, then I'll leave him alone, but if he wants to come make sure Hermione doesn't do anything stupid, then so be it, Ron said, holding his ground only inches from his mother's face. Harry's a big boy. If he's expected to put his life on the line for the wizarding world, he can make up his own mind about what's good for him and what isn't. Ron knew he was going to have to rally some courage for this next statement, but one look at the clock made his mind up for him quickly. As his last-ditch effort to get to Hermione, Ron held out his hand. My broomstick, please.  
  
You must be joking, his mother growled, pulling the Cleansweep closer to her body.  
  
No. I'm not. I'm not going to let Hermione do this.  
  
We'll see about that--  
  
Something exploded inside of Ron at the same time his voice exploded from his throat. I'm _not_ asking your _permission! _I'm _going! _My broomstick, PLEASE! He could see stirring and whispering from the spectators out of the corner of his eye.  
  
Mrs. Weasley gasped, but then composed herself and her voice became dangerously quiet instead. Oh, you think you are, eh? Well, do I have news for you! I have _never_ heard such insolence in my life. It may be_ years_ before you have the use of this broomstick again. After all, Mum and Dad giveth and Mum and Dad can taketh away. And here's something else for you, dear. _ I'm_ not going to let _you_ be so stupid, either-- although it might be rather amusing to see whether the Ministry or the Order got to you first. Pity we'll never know.   
  
Molly reached into her dressing gown pocket and pulled out her wand. Stepping back, she held up Ron's broomstick and pointed. _Lockstockenbroomstick! _Then_ MobiliBroomstick!_ to my bedroom, please.   
  
The broomstick suddenly developed a covering of metal mesh, then became enclosed in a glass-like casing. Break the glass, a horrendous alarm sounds, sure to find me if I'm anywhere in the Queen's England, as the Muggles say. Try to remove the metal mesh, the broomstick bursts into flame. Much better spell than that Umbridge woman used with Fred's and George's brooms last year --the woman obviously hasn't dealt with seven children of her own.  
  
The Cleansweep in its metal and glass casing, moving slowly from the added weight, eased its way toward the stairs. Ron, feeling deflated now, could do nothing but watch his precious broomstick float away. As the Cleansweep approached them, Fred, George and Ginny stood and ran upstairs. But Ron knew they were still watching from a crack in the bathroom door one flight up; he'd done it so many times himself.  
  
And as for you-- Molly continued, since you're not in the mood to listen to reason... She pointed her wand at Ron and he felt his knees jam together. The Leg-Locker Curse will last until morning. This should give you time to think about poor decisions and whether or not you're too old to need permission to go gallivanting about the countryside all night. Don't bother trying your bedroom door--it will also be locked until morning as well. We'll discuss consequences tomorrow. Now--off with you-- _Mobilicorpus!  
  
_The spell carried him up the stairs to his room, where it dumped him unceremoniously on the bed. The door slammed shut and he could hear another spell setting the lock in place. Ron sighed and felt his eyes stinging. Frustrated, humiliated and feeling oh-so-useless, the best he could do was hope for sleep to take him quickly. Maybe that's what he'd do-- just sleep the rest of the summer away--at least he'd have his dreams to keep him company.  
  
It had happened again: in spite of all his good intentions, there was absolutely nothing he could do to help Hermione now.  
  
Ron Weasley had been, quite literally, grounded.All right, stop. This is it.  
  
Mr. and Mrs. Granger had peered through the windshield at the area around the vandalized telephone box, bits of trash blowing along the ground in the warm, stiff breeze. _  
  
What_ is Mr. Granger had asked, still glancing up and down the street.  
  
This is the entrance to the Ministry, Hermione had said matter-of-factly.  
  
_My poor parents,_ Hermione thought as she recalled the last hour. Once they had parked the car near the overflowing dumpster and unloaded all of her baggage into the thrashed telephone box, she had had to coax her parents into joining her there. To two only semi-initiated Muggle parents, it must have all seemed like a bad joke. They were likely waiting for someone to jump out and shout that they were being candidly filmed for some sordid television show.  
  
Then there was the announcement by the voice in the telephone box, not only to welcome them to the Ministry of Magic, but also to advise that any Muggles proceeding past this point would be subject to an Obliviation procedure once their visit was concluded.  
  
Oh, I hadn't thought of that, Hermione had said, frowning. But I suppose it's necessary. The Obliviation procedure--it's just a Memory Charm, completely painless--I'd love for you to go on with me from here, but in case they insist on the Obliviation, I don't want to make your choice for you. They're very good--and specific--they'll only erase the memories of what you see inside here, nothing else.  
  
The Grangers had glanced at one another, but just briefly. Wordlessly and courageously, they made their decision and nodded, then the two silver badges rapidly slid from the telephone slot. Each of them dutifully attached to their shirtfronts the badges that said:   
  
Mr. (or Mrs.) Granger  
Parent of Reporting Intern   
  
Hermione's own badge had come out last. She anxiously read:   
  
Hermione Granger  
Research Intern to Dr. Null  
  
A little thrill of excitement ran through her as the words sank in. It still felt too good to be true.  
  
Apparently an announcement of her arrival had been made in some other part of the building, for when the telephone box descended and ground to a halt some levels below, a short, bow-legged wizard appeared immediately. He first checked Hermione's badge and then collected all of her baggage, pulling the trunk and satchel behind him in the air by virtue of a Levitating Charm. The three Grangers then walked unencumbered through the Atrium. Hermione tried to urge her parents along before anyone spotted her that might recognize her from one fateful night several months before.   
  
Hermione's parents, on the other hand, appeared awed at all they saw. They were, of course, aware of magic and had already seen some things happen in Diagon Alley that would have proven totally baffling for any fully uninitiated Muggle. But the fireplaces with people rapidly Flooing in and out, the Fountain of Magical Brethren spouting in the center of the Atrium, the peacock-blue ceiling with its rapidly changing gold symbols, all seemed a bit much to take and actually continue walking, too.   
  
Frustrated with their progress, Hermione hurried a bit ahead of her parents to present her wand at the Security desk. Once the dowdy little female witch in peacock-blue robes had registered and returned Hermione's wand to her with a scowl, she said, Your wand will remain registered now until your departure after your internship is completed. Though you are underage, Miss Granger, any magic authorized by Dr. Null as part of your work will be permitted by the Ministry.  
  
Mr. and Mrs. Granger had finally caught up and approached Hermione as she finished with the Security witch. They were just in time to leave again.   
  
Come on, this way, Hermione said, knowing that they now could head for the lifts. It didn't take long for the irony of the situation to hit her: she was able to easily find her way through the Ministry office because she had been involved in the illegal Ministry break-in to rescue Sirius. _At least,_ she thought, _the fact that I seem to know where I'm going is making my parents feel more confident about this whole thing, so some good has come out of it.   
  
_As they chose the lift with the smallest crowd of wizards and witches waiting before it, Hermione looked nervously at her parents. So...what do you think?  
  
Her father spoke first. It's--it's hardly what I expected from the outside entrance.  
  
I had no idea, her mother said softly. But I suppose I feel a bit better about leaving you with someone who works here now.  
  
The lift opened and after climbing aboard, it whisked them away to several different levels before they reached the one they wanted: Level four, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, incorporating Beast, Being, and Spirit Divisions, Goblin Liaison Office and Pest Advisory Bureau...  
  
..Which is where they were now - in the Being office, of course.  
  
The Grangers were seated in the office of Mr. Thaddeus Sharpe, awaiting his arrival. Mr. Sharpe's assistant, Louise, had assured that he was expecting them and that he would arrive momentarily, but that had been twenty minutes ago. Hermione's excitement and nervousness had been on the verge of turning to irritation when they heard voices in the hallway, one of them distinctly louder and more self-assured-sounding than the others. It sounded as if the louder voice belonged to a person who was accustomed to having people listen to him--and what worried Hermione was that the voice kept coming nearer.  
  
Sure enough, a moment later, Thaddeus Sharpe pushed open the etched-glass door and strode into his office.   
  
I do apologize for my tardiness, the loud, self-assured voice said, now seeming very appropriate for the wizard standing before them. Thank you so much for your patience. Mr. and Mrs. Granger, I presume? Thaddeus Sharpe at your service --very pleased to meet you, he said, holding out a hand first to Hermione's mother, then her father.  
  
Thaddeus Sharpe was a tall, commanding wizard dressed in the most stylish (and expensive, Hermione guessed) of silver-gray robes. His sleek, perfect, shoulder-length hair had once been dark all over, but his temples now sported a light dusting of silver-gray that almost perfectly matched the robes covering the trim, yet solid set of shoulders below it.  
  
Hermione recognized Sharpe immediately from his numerous appearances in the _Daily Prophet. _She hadn't known that Sharpe led the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures Department, but she should have known his type would appear somewhere along the line. By that, she felt immediately concerned that Mr. Sharpe held his office not due to his commitment toward the cause, but because being involved here would be so politically correct--and possibly so politically beneficial in the future.  
  
And that wasn't all. Thaddeus Sharpe not only graced the wizarding news pages with his presence, but his face was well-known and no doubt strategically-placed on the society pages as well. Somewhere in the back of Hermione's mind her words to Ron returned to haunt her: But this doesn't have anything to do with the political side of the Ministry, Ron, it's all scientific. _Great _--and here she sat staring at one of the slickest politicians in the Ministry.  
  
This must be the brilliant Miss Granger, Sharpe gushed, holding out his hand for her to shake. We certainly received some sterling recommendations regarding you.  
  
Thank you. I'm very pleased to meet you, Hermione said formally, feeling her cheeks grow hot in spite of the fact she wasn't especially taken with the man.  
  
Ready for your great adventure, are you? he asked, circling the desk and sitting down. For most of our interns, their time with their studies is one of the most rewarding and memorable experiences of their young lives -- one of their first great adventures away from home and on their own.  
  
Hermione could think of a few other adventures' she'd had and hoped that he wasn't remembering her name in connection with any of them.  
  
I think it will be a great experience working with Dr. Null. I've always admired his work and followed it very closely, Hermione said, feeling she was expected to say _something._  
  
Well, let's get on with it and get you there then, shall we? Mr. Sharpe stood and pulled down a retractable map of the United Kingdom from the ceiling behind his desk, slipping his wand from his robes pocket to use as a pointer. Dr. Null and his associates have set up shop for his study right...here. Sharpe pointed to a place in southwest Scotland, an area that looked on the relief map as if it was very mountainous and unpopulated. As you know, our Hermione will be working with the Yeti, who are not native to the UK, but are most numerous in the Himalayas and in North America. In those locations there have been a greater number of sightings by non-magical folk --though we try our best to Obliviate them quick as we can. Sharpe flashed a perfectly photogenic smile at them all, apparently enjoying his own little joke.  
  
Hermione had already furrowed her brow at the use of our Hermione', but she reasoned that perhaps he was just trying to make them all feel comfortable. At least he'd said non-magical folk instead of Muggles.  
  
This area, close to Galloway, is most similar to their native habitats, so when the creatures were flown in from their native lands, they adjusted quite quickly to the habitat itself, Sharpe continued. In fact, most are well-settled even though they've been there no more than several weeks at this point.  
  
Hermione glanced at her parents, who were listening attentively from either side of her. Both of them seemed a bit more tense than usual, but she could guess that it was difficult for them to let their fifteen-year-old daughter trek off on some scientific quest so far away. She wondered what they thought of Thaddeus Sharpe, but could hardly ask them right in front of the man.  
  
I have a question, Hermione said, assuming that raising her hand, while familiar, would be a bit awkward in this situation. Is that what the study is for, then? The creatures' adjustment to the new habitat?  
  
We're jumping ahead a bit here, but that's what I like to see in my interns-- a healthy dose of curiosity, Sharpe said.   
  
Hermione thought Thaddeus Sharpe actually sounded a bit more like a used-broomstick salesman than a Ministry department head, or even a politician, but she supposed that those same skills might come in useful in all of those positions. She was still deciding what to think at being called one of his interns'.  
  
No, actually the habitat is considered one of the constants' because the creatures will remain in the same location for the duration of the study. The variable'--the one Dr. Null is testing his theories on--is the behavior of the Yeti, Sharpe continued. I'm sure Dr. Null will explain his own position further, but I do know that what prompted Dr. Null to begin this study now is that after thousands of years, the behavior of the Yeti has begun to change very quickly and very drastically. Their ordinarily docile behavior has become very erratic, and once in a great while, violent. The group Dr. Null is working with are some of those Yeti who have come to our attention as being especially prone to more violent behaviors, so they were removed from their native societal groups and brought here for study. As magical creatures, the Yeti are part of our jurisdiction, so it's really our responsibility to see if we can find out why there have been such changes and if the creatures' rights have been in any way violated.  
  
As uncertain as Hermione was about this wizard before her, she could at least respect him for the fact that at some point he had to have found money to fund such a study for the rights of the Yeti. No matter how superficial he might have seemed in her first impression of him, she felt he must have cared at least a little; he had, after all, described doing the study as our responsibility (meaning, of course, the wizarding world) and with precious few Ministry workers wanting to take responsibility for anything these days, it was refreshing to see that at least one side of him was caring and respectable.  
  
Our little inside joke is that the poor Yeti are just sick and tired of what they've always been called on their two native continents. The Sherpa people of the Himalayas, who first spotted the creatures' magical ability to appear and disappear at will, call them by the respectable name of Yeti', which means rock dwellers'. But outsiders to Asia began calling them Abominable Snow Men' --who wouldn't object to being called abominable? And the Americans call them Bigfoot'--there's a name most people would be proud to carry around with them, right? No wonder they pound their chest and look tetchy, eh? Mr. Sharpe laughed loudly at his own weak humor for minute or two.   
  
Hermione smiled vaguely and her father chuckled half-heartedly. _Of course, I could be dead wrong about him having any redeeming qualities at all, _Hermione thought.  
  
You already know that the internship was arranged for a month's duration, Sharpe explained. Transportation to your home on the twenty-fourth of August will be arranged, giving you a week to prepare for your return to Hogwarts. The owl post situation has been described to you?  
  
Mr. Granger said, as Mrs. Granger nodded.  
  
Um, is there any way to make any--adjustments-- to that rule? Hermione asked. Like sending an extra owl once in a while to friends or something?  
  
Mr. Sharpe smiled. Such a peer conscious age, eh? We'd like to be able to be more flexible, but what with the number of people at the study site and their isolation, almost everyone there has the need to owl others, along with the regular owls for supplies and business purposes. Dr. Null has found that for some reason the owls flying over seriously affect the attitudes of theYeti, so we simply can't allow for more.  
  
Hermione nodded glumly. I see.  
  
Well, if there are no more questions... Sharpe looked into the faces of Hermione's parents, but saw no further response. Then I suppose it's time to say your goodbyes. I'll step outside to speak with Louise. She's the one who'll be arranging the administration of your Memory Charms. Mr. and Mrs. Granger, anything we have discussed in this office will be left in your memories, but I'm afraid that all else you've been privy to this afternoon since descending on the telephone box lift will need to be erased. I apologize for the inconvenience--regulations, you know.  
  
We understand. Hermione explained it to us, Mrs. Granger said.  
  
Can I be with them while they're being charmed? Hermione asked anxiously. They've never been Obliviated before.  
  
Thaddeus Sharpe looked thoughtful. Mmmm-- that might be difficult. The Portkey is set for fifteen minutes from now and it has a very short range of departure time since we have such a great distance to cover, you and I. Plus they're not allowed to witness our departure. Your parents will need to be walked out of the office and to ground level to be left with their car, so I don't think we'd have sufficient time.  
  
Hermione started to object, looking a bit more worried.  
  
It's all right, Hermione, Mr. Granger said. We've trusted your magical world enough to let them have you. We certainly should be able to trust it enough to take care of this. Mr. Granger reached an arm around his wife's shoulder as Mrs. Granger nodded in agreement.  
  
Sharpe nodded as well and walked from the room.  
  
Oh, I hope they send nice wizards or witches to charm you, Hermione said. Most of them are, but--  
  
You get a mix, just like with us non-magical folk, eh? Mr. Granger said, trying to sound light-hearted. So you're off. We're certainly going to miss you. Even when you're at Hogwarts, Professor Dumbledore has been so kind that we feel we can find you at any time if we want. So it's not really like being separated. But this feels...  
  
Just a little bit farther away? Mrs. Granger finished.  
  
Just a great bit farther away, Mr. Granger corrected.  
  
Hermione smiled at them, her eyes stinging a bit. Thank you for letting me go. Dr. Null's such a brilliant man. I'll try my best--I'll make you proud. I know I can be a good research assistant for him.   
  
Mrs. Granger laughed softly. You know, that was the farthest thing from my mind. We know you'll be the best he ever had--probably the best the Ministry's ever had.  
  
A soft voice came from the just-opened door. Mr. and Mrs. Granger, they're ready for you now. Hermione looked over to find Thaddeus Sharpe leaning in through the door. At least he had the decency to give them a few last minutes alone together.   
  
May I ask who's going to do the charm? Hermione questioned.  
  
Erm, just a moment, Sharpe said, turning to look into the room behind him. Your names?  
  
Two soft unintelligible noises were heard, then Sharpe nodded and looked back at the Grangers. Mr. Wells and Ms. Yopletski. Two of the best.  
  
Hermione frowned. How could Sharpe know they were two of the best if he didn't even know their names? _Ergh-- politicians! _She quickly tried to scan her own memory of all the Slytherin students she knew and all of the people's names she'd read about as being tied in with the Death Eaters from the _Prophet_, but she couldn't remember either of the two surnames from anywhere. She supposed that was a good thing.  
  
Hermione looked at her parents once more and all of a sudden felt panicked that she hadn't said enough. She threw her arms around her mother and hugged her tightly. I love you, Mum. Then she did the same with her father. I love you, Dad. I'll see both of you soon. The time will go fast-- I know it will!  
  
We love you, Hermione, Mrs. Granger said. We know you'll do wonderfully.  
  
Mr. and Mrs. Granger smiled proudly at their daughter once more, then took several steps toward the door from Sharpe's office before Hermione stopped them with one last request to Mr. Sharpe.  
  
Don't let them erase that! Whatever they do--please don't let them! she said tensely as her eyes started to fill.  
  
Anything that took place in this office is theirs--and yours-- to keep, Sharpe said.  
  
Hermione watched her parents file past Mr. Sharpe and move into the outer office. The milky glass windows didn't allow her to see Wells and Yopletski. Although she knew it was completely unprofessional to do so, she lost the battle within herself and hurried to stand just behind the tall wizard where she was able to see into the outer office. Squinting at Wells and Yopletski, Hermione was only a little relieved to discover that she didn't recognize them. _If only they'd randomly called up Mr. Weasley or one of the Order members ... _she thought._  
_  
Don't worry, Hermione, they'll be well taken care of, Thaddeus Sharpe assured.  
  
Hermione could tell that the Ministry official meant it to sound comforting. She just wished she could decide why she didn't feel comforted in the least. 


	8. Null and Voyde

_A/N: I must thank my wonderful beta-readers for this chapter, **Christina Teresa** and **Seakays**, who, in spite of being virtually swamped with Real Life issues, took time out of their very busy schedules to beta-read. And to my readers, thank you for your patience with this author, who spent a fair time battling Real Life lately herself. With any luck, it should be shorter between chapter postings next time! Thank you for your continued reading and reviewing support! **-NZ**  
_  
  
Chapter 8  
  
Null and Voyde

Hermione fought her way through the masses of hair in her face in order to see where the two of them had landed. Traveling by Portkey always made her feel as if she'd been through a tornado--and she didn't look much different than if she had been, either.  
  
Before checking her whereabouts, she briefly glanced up at the tall wizard beside her and stared a moment in surprise. Everything about Thaddeus Sharpe was as perfect as if he'd never left his Ministry office: his robes, his hair, his composure. Now_ that_ wasn't fair.  
  
Once her head stopped spinning, she leaned forward and then flipped her hair behind her to bring it together, twisting it into one fat roll down her back so that she didn't look a complete idiot in case they were off to meet some of her new associates.  
  
Mr. Sharpe sighed happily. Apparition is fine, but Portkey travel always makes me a bit giddy--rather exciting to feel as if you've really covered some ground, yet it's all over in just an instant. Don't you agree? The tall wizard reached inside his robes to pocket the shiny silver Muggle cigarette lighter they'd used as a Portkey.  
  
Hermione was just discovering that, while in transit, her originally centered shirt-buttons had changed position and were now neatly placed down the right side of her ribcage. She was in the midst of trying to adjust her shirt inconspicuously when she realized that the man had asked a question. Oh, erm...yes, agreed.  
  
Next to her, Thaddeus Sharpe was turning about, looking in all directions around the compound.  
  
Finally feeling somewhat pulled back together, Hermione took the opportunity to soak in her surroundings. The two of them were standing in an open quadrangle in the center of a compound surrounded by doubled heavy wire fencing some eight meters high; the fences, with some ten feet of empty space between the inner and outer rings, must have served some (_rather sinister-feeling, _Hermione thought) purpose years ago. Within the compound to the west stood a large building that was completely unremarkable with its dual-level shoebox shape and gunmetal-gray stucco. To the south of them was a set of enormous gates, flanked by several small wooden bungalows on each side and two larger buildings to the southwest looked as if they might be multi-room housing of some sort.  
  
To the northeast there were three more of the small wooden cabins. Her eye was then drawn due north, to what looked to be the most inviting building of all, if any of them could be described as such. A few low flowering bushes had been planted outside and there was a bit of shape to its exterior--a number of windows indicated that it must at least be bright and cheerful inside.  
  
One thing that Hermione thought to be odd, though, was the existence of a number of very tall light posts sporting very large metal shades; some seemed aimed toward lighting the interior of the compound, some were aimed toward lighting the fences. She supposed that at one time the lights had been electrical in nature, but squinting up at them told her that they had been converted to reflective shades for torches, much like lighthouses of old that she'd read about in Muggle public school.  
  
That is just like him, I'm afraid, Mr. Sharpe said, interrupting her visual inspection. I told Dr. Null we'd be arriving at three o'clock, but the man often runs a bit... behind.  
  
Just then, they heard a heavy door slam at the far end of the gray building. Mr. Sharpe and Hermione turned to see a rather short, sturdily-built man jogging his way toward them across the quad, his white lab robes flapping behind him in the wind. He slowed as he approached them.  
  
Even without studying him carefully, Hermione knew this had to be Dr. Christopher Null. In an article she'd read in _The Empirical Inquisitor_, one reporter had mentioned that it was a good thing eccentricity wasn't factored into account when scientists were being considered for the Crystobel Prize. Otherwise, according to the reporter, the zoolowizard in front of them would have certainly been out of the running early on.  
  
On first glance, Christopher Null was a rather pleasant-looking man, probably in his mid-thirties. At least half a head shorter than Thaddeus Sharpe, he had a shock of dark brown hair that hung thickly over his brow. His deep-set brown eyes were intensely focused on her and Mr. Sharpe for the moment, but Hermione could tell that unless the two of them continued to be of interest, Dr. Null's eyes and thoughts would quickly be focused elsewhere.  
  
Yet there were these other...factors...his lab robes for one. Not only were the robes dreadfully wrinkled, but they sat atop his shoulders at an odd angle now, having been blown about in the wind as he ran. He didn't seem to notice, however; nor had he apparently noticed a very large and ugly stain trailing from his elbow to the cuff of one sleeve--Hermione found herself hoping it was only tea. His shirt under the open robe was fastened one button off, causing the side of his collar to stick up under his chin, and there were ink stains at the bottom edge of his chest pocket.  
  
As Dr. Null finally stopped in front of them, a bit out of breath from his jog across the quad, Hermione found her (hopefully) subtle assessment of his appearance had ended with a glance at his dusty shoes. But she was hard-pressed not to do an obvious double-take when she saw something pointed protruding out from under the cuff of his brown herringbone pants, wedged against the top of one black trainer. Though she knew it would be quite awkward to be caught staring, the object kept drawing her eyes back to it.  
  
Sharpe said, smiling his perfect smile and extending a hand in greeting to the zoolowizard. Good to see you, old man. How's our pet project going?Hello, Thaddeus. Dr. Null reached out and politely returned the handshake, but didn't seem to be as enthusiastic about their meeting as Sharpe was. The project's going fine--as well as can be expected. I think you'll be pleased with our start-up measures, but the results may take some time. It'll all be in the report I'm compiling. Sharpe said. Speaking of compiling research, I've finally brought along that research assistant you requested. She's a sharp one, Chris--she'll be an invaluable resource to you, I'm sure. Miss Granger?  
  
Sharpe stepped aside so that she and Dr. Null were facing one another directly. Hermione Granger--Dr. Christopher Null. Dr. Null, your assistant.  
  
Hermione smiled primly and held out her hand. Pleased to meet you, Dr. Null. I've always been so impressed by your work and your protection of creatures' rights. It's an honor to get the chance to work with you. _Excellent_ - it sounded just as professional as it had when she practiced it alone all those times before.  
  
Dr. Null seemed genuinely pleased. Thank you, Miss Granger. Welcome to Trapperton. I've been told only a little about you, but all of it has been good. I suppose we'll find out just how well your skills hold up under some tedious report-writing and some grueling teamwork, eh? We're indeed very pleased to have you.  
  
Hermione felt her cheeks warming. Thank you.Well, then, shall we continue with the details over early tea in the commons? Sharpe asked. Or would you two rather continue chattering out here in the dust like your test subjects do, just for practice?  
  
Dr. Null looked around briefly, as if noticing for the first time that they really were taking the full brunt of the summer sunshine. Oh...well, by all means then, tea it is. After you, Miss Granger.  
  
Hermione wasn't sure what to do. She started to take a few steps past the two men toward the building with the plants outside, but then she wheeled around. Erm, Dr. Null--sir?  
  
Lost in thought already, it took him a moment to register that she'd spoken. But the pause in the conversation interrupted his distracted expression and he raised his eyebrows at her in response.  
  
May I, sir--? she started. Hermione then knelt down to grab the tip of whatever was lodged against the top of Null's shoe. She carefully pulled the length of it free from his pants cuff to reveal a long, sturdy Ministry-issue quill, then stood straight and held it out to Null. The man looked delighted.  
  
Oh, well done! he said, smiling. I knew I'd put that in my pocket, then I lost it straight away! Only shows I'm not completely daft--it was there all along. Null beamed at Hermione. I believe Thaddeus is right, Miss Granger. It seems you're going to be very helpful.  
  
Hermione nodded and gave a wan little smile, then stepped off toward the northernmost building. The two men, talking in a business-like manner, moved to walk at her side. She tried to listen and gain any information she could, but a nagging thought kept tugging at her. She couldn't help but wonder if everything had gone well with her parents. After all, they should have been back in their car headed for home by now. If only there was some way to find out if they were safe and feeling all right... all she could do was owl them tonight.  
  
Approaching the door, Hermione pushed it open to walk inside. It was difficult to believe that this place was a part of all the stark, clinical buildings she'd seen already. Here there was a large open room with eight or ten round tables sporting freshly cut flowers on top of bright, crisply-ironed tablecloths. The open windows allowed a soft breeze to blow the cheery curtains and she breathed in something delicious and  
savory cooking alongside the welcoming smell of baking scones.  
  
At one of the tables in the farthest corner sat two very large men, eating and laughing robustly with their backs turned toward the door. Glancing over their shoulders once when they heard Hermione, Null, and Sharpe enter, the laughing ceased and the two men then appeared to intensify their efforts to finish their food in silence.  
  
Dr. Null called toward the back of the room, where Hermione could see a high window opening into another area beyond, presumably the source of the wonderful aromas. We have guests!  
  
The eating men glanced over their shoulders again, but said nothing.  
  
Hermione walked to a bright table by the window and Mr. Sharpe pulled out a chair for her.  
  
But I suppose we can't call _you_ a guest any longer, now can we? Dr. Null said, seating himself after Hermione, as did Thaddeus Sharpe. This is where we have all of our meals and I can assure you the food is superb, thanks to-- well, here she is now. That was prompt, Tulip. This is Hermione Granger - she'll be staying with us for a month or so. Please say hello.  
  
Hermione glanced across the table into the huge, glistening blue eyes of a house-elf. She could tell the elf had been staring at her, but Tulip's gaze dropped humbly to the floor the instant Hermione made eye contact. It was obvious from looking at the creature just who had created the warm and comfortable ambience of the commons.  
  
Tulip is being very happy to meet you, miss, the little elf said, curtseying deeply. She held out at the sides her orange and yellow dress' made from a curtain as she dipped, causing her to blend in easily with the matching curtains on the far wall behind her. Anything you be wanting, Tulip will help find.  
  
Hermione smiled warmly at her. Thank you, Tulip. I'm sure I'll be calling on you. Momentarily, she wondered if it would be inappropriate to hold out a hand for Tulip to shake or if it would simply cause a scene. She was, after all, in the research compound of allegedly one of the great creatures' advocates in the world; she had half a mind to test his mettle. But she'd only met him less than an hour ago--it would likely be bad form to start in on proving her own points quite this soon.  
  
Bring a pot of tea and some of those delicious scones, Tulip, Dr. Null said. He'd been jotting off a note on a wrinkled piece of paper that must have been in his pocket. Folding it into an airplane shape, he pushed the note into the air and swung the wand from his pocket at it once; its crumpled nose didn't make for very efficiently flying, but t  
  
Tulip held her hand to her mouth, her long fingers curling in front of her lips. Tulip is being pleased to bring them now, doctor sir. She backed away, then turned and hurried off across the room, glancing repeatedly (and somewhat worriedly, Hermione thought) at the two men who were just standing up from their table.  
  
Otto! Ulav! Dr. Null called. Come meet our new research assistant before you go.  
  
The two men exchanged a look for a moment, then pushed in their chairs and approached the table where Hermione, Dr. Null, and Thaddeus Sharpe sat. Hermione noticed at once their enormous size; they were certainly not in Hagrid's category, but very much on the large side for anyone completely human. Their thick necks, shoulders, and arms strained at their clothing and they reached up to place caps on their heads that they then pulled down low over their faces. It was difficult to tell for this reason, but Hermione thought that their facial features looked very much alike--and for some reason, she remembered they looked oddly like those neighbors down the street from home.  
  
Dr. Null glared at the two men momentarily, which seemed to make them remember their manners and remove their caps to meet Hermione. As the men held the caps in front of their chests with both hands, Hermione noted that she'd been right--the two were either fraternal twins or brothers very close in age.  
  
Gentlemen, this is Miss Granger, Dr. Null said. She'll be working under my tutelage for the next month or so. Please afford her every respect that you would myself and Voyde. Miss Granger, this is Otto, and this is Ulav. They are part of the team in charge of maintaining the habitat and taking care of the physical needs of the Yeti. They also help us with bringing in the Yeti for testing and observation when necessary. the two men grunted almost in unison and nodded their heads.  
  
Pleased to meet you, Hermione responded, noting that the men wouldn't look her in the eye.  
  
There was then en empty silence that Dr. Null didn't seem to notice and the two men shifted on their feet, seemingly waiting to be dismissed. Thaddeus Sharpe looked between the men and Null, finally taking it upon himself to say something.  
  
Thank you, gentlemen. I'm sure Dr. Null doesn't want to keep you any longer from your duties, or did you need something else, doctor? Null responded blankly. Oh, no...no. Carry on, please. The men left.  
  
Null and Sharpe then launched into a discussion of the necessary paperwork that was due for the start of the new fiscal year.  
  
Hermione began listening, but was soon distracted by looking out of the window and familiarizing herself with the place she would be staying for the next month. She hadn't really had the time to consider what it would be like working here, basically on her own with strangers. At least while alone in Bermuda, she knew it was only a matter of time before her parents would return in the evening and they could do things together. At Hogwarts or with the Weasleys, it seemed like Ron or Harry were always there with her in a completely new situation like this, but not now. This awareness made her feel rather like she did during her first days at Hogwarts when she knew no one in her new magical world, and the remembrance of it made her start to feel just a bit melancholy...  
  
Suddenly a familiar name snapped Hermione's attention back to the conversation next to her.  
  
--so Narcissa Malfoy thought it would be best if we could manage to collect donations at the Autumn Aura Ball, Sharpe was saying. That way the funding would stand no chance of running low for our endangered magical species, and that's_ always_ when all of the naysayers tend to jump on to finally sink the project...That's really more up your alley, Thaddeus, Dr. Null said dully. Use your own best judgment on all of that fund-raising folderol. Mrs. Malfoy has been a regular contributor--I'm sure you're aware that she's even visited us a few times here. Pamela always disagrees about doing it, but we try to make quite a fuss over her when she comes to Trapperton--she seems to expect it.  
  
_Mrs. Malfoy's been here? _Hermione thought. _Hopefully she won't be again while I am...And...Pamela who?  
_  
  
Sharpe looked up from Dr. Null for a moment as if something had suddenly struck him. You know, Miss Granger, if you're going to become a real part of this line of work, you might as well see what it takes to drum up financial support. He touched a finger to his chin, thinking. Don't the Malfoys have a son who attends Hogwarts?Yes-- they do, Hermione answered reluctantly. Draco--he's in my year.Ah, yes--that's right-- Draco, Sharpe said. It's always important to keep all of these names and ages straight--never know when someone will be so pleased that you've remembered that they dip right into their galleon bags... But Narcissa Malfoy has  
always been so generous of her own doing -- haven't you found that to be true?Oh...well...I've never actually met her...formally, Hermione said dismissively, hoping they could just gloss over the subject. The only time she remembered seeing Mrs. Malfoy was during the World Cup Quidditch match before fourth year. I'm sorry to say I'm not at all familiar with her spending habits, though her son seems to act as if money is no object with their family. _Get off this subject if you can, Hermione, before you say something you don't want to...  
_  
  
Thankfully, Tulip returned just then with the refreshments, giving Hermione a quick way out. Hermione poured tea and buttered scones, putting in an effort to look much busier with it than she really was.  
  
Word is that there'll be another dignitary visit here in a week or two, though we have nothing confirmed as of yet, Sharpe said to Hermione. Someone very well-connected, I hear--possibly even Phelix Nardstone himself. But due to, er, circumstances, the Ministry rarely makes announcements regarding the whereabouts of our higher-ups these days, even to us--at least, until the last moment. Hermione said weakly now that she'd found that said dignitaries could include the likes of Narcissa Malfoy.  
  
Some advice, Miss Granger, Sharpe said, appearing not to notice her less-than-enthusiastic attitude. It's always good to make connections. Friends and acquaintances can be what get you by sometimes--when the normal channels are of no use. Make a good impression on someone like Phelix Nardstone and you never can tell how his influence can affect your chances for a Ministry position when you leave Hogwarts. But also be aware that the research business can cause you to fall in with some strange bedfellows. Still, that's always preferable to abandoning what's important to you or the wizarding world, or letting your project die--isn't that right, Chris?  
  
Hermione glanced quickly at Dr. Null, who acknowledged Sharpe's statement with a grunt as he took a sip of tea. She found it odd that Null seemed to be avoiding eye  
contact with the Ministry official.  
  
Well, I've got a Portkey to catch, Sharpe said, standing after consulting his watch. Dr. Null will explain the project and your role more in depth tomorrow, Hermione, as I'm sure you've had quite a day already. Anything else to add right now, Chris?I'll just give her some basics about the workings of the camp for the evening, but you don't need to stick around for that, Thaddeus, Dr. Null said, standing himself. I think you've covered anything else she needs to know. I'm looking forward to finding out just what a valuable assistant you've found me. Null turned to smile briefly at Hermione.  
  
Good luck, Miss Granger. Work hard, learn everything you can from this man, Sharpe nodded at Null, but try to enjoy yourself as well. After all, it is your summer holiday. He reached his hand toward Hermione, who shook it firmly, then Thaddeus Sharpe, still looking thoroughly unmussed, turned to stride out the door.  
  
Well, so here we are, Dr. Null said. Where _has_ Tod got off to? I did send for him, didn't I? Hermione asked.  
  
Oh--that's right--you haven't met, Null answered. Tod is Tulip's, erm, partner. Mate sounds like too harsh a word for higher-order beings, don't you think?  
  
Hermione looked at Null as if she was seeing him for the first time--and smiled. Perhaps this was going to be as fascinating as she thought it would be all along--and perhaps she'd find someone to help her clarify her own thoughts about the house-elves. Yes--I think partner' is much better. Hermione thought back on his earlier actions. Was that the note you sent earlier?Ah yes--good, Null said. I did send it. Just so you're aware... he began. You won't be meeting any of our test subjects until tomorrow, but you may have noticed the fences outside--those are more for your protection than they are for the Yeti living outside the barriers. There are, of course, wards to surround their entire habitat since the Yeti are indeed on the Endangered Magical Species list. We have magical barriers around our research compound as well, but those double fences are simply another safeguard in case some Yeti in a foul mood one day manages to work around the magic somehow. They are quite magical themselves--and up until now have been quite docile--but since we as yet have no idea what is changing their behavior for the worse... What I'm trying to say is that you must stay within the confines of the camp at all times during the evenings and at night. They sometimes even let the dogs into the area between the two fences if the Yeti are restless. Voyde's men take care of the Yeti after dark and are the only ones permitted outside the fences at that time.Voyde's men? Hermione questioned. Is Otto or Ulav the Voyde' you're talking about?Ah, here's Tod now! Dr. Null said, either ignoring or not hearing her question and looking at a point to the right of her elbow.  
  
Having heard nothing next to her, Hermione glanced down and was surprised to see a house-elf, obviously male like Dobby, standing by her chair. He was a bit taller than Dobby and possibly a bit younger, but as much as she would like to consider herself a house-elf expert, she really didn't have enough experience with the species to tell for sure. He wore a yellow and orange curtain identical to Tulip's, but fastened it more like a toga than a dress.  
  
Tod, this is Miss Granger, Dr. Null said.  
  
Being ever so pleased for meeting you, Miss Granger, Tod said, bowing deeply from the waist. Hermione noticed his accent to be a bit different than those of the few other house-elves she'd spoken with at Hogwarts.  
  
You've moved her bags into her room then, have you? Dr. Null asked.  
  
Tod finally abandoned his bow. The bags most certainly they are there, doctor sir.Well, then-- Dr. Null said, I believe we're ready to show you to your quarters-- called a loud, deep voice from the end of the room. The man, the girl, and the house-elf all turned to see its source. Otto (or Ulav--Hermione was already hard-pressed to remember which one was which) stood at the door, holding it open and glancing rather worriedly behind him. You're needed in the lab--as soon as possible, sir. It's Spyder, sir-- Dr. Null turned to Hermione rather worriedly. Would you mind-- would it be all right if Tod showed you--  
  
Hermione smiled a bit. Of course. Please go on. We'll be fine.  
  
Dr. Null turned immediately and jogged to the door, then through it and beyond with Otto/Ulav at his heels.  
  
Hermione turned back to the table to lay her napkin next to her plate and push herself away. As she stood, she noticed something out of place next to where Dr. Null had been sitting: his Ministry-issue quill was on the loose once more. Hermione reached for it and tucked it into her robe pocket with the intention of returning it later. She shook her head and sighed.  
  
She looked down at the house-elf, who stood patiently waiting and watching her every move. Is he always like that?  
  
Tod glanced around, as if checking to be certain no one would see his response, then nodded his head vigorously.  
  
Well, then. I see I have my job cut out for me, Hermione said resignedly. Shall we go?  
  
Hermione turned away from the table and followed the sight of a yellow and orange curtain toga out into the dusty quad.

It had been three days since Hermione left. The argument with his mother had sent her in search of the most horrendous jobs for him to complete, including dredging the pond of what she claimed was an infestation of flobberworms along its edge. That chore alone had taken Ron a full day--along with the other chores he'd been prevented from working on the motorbike at all since Hermione had been here. But somehow he'd lost interest in most everything once she'd left anyway. That, and the sporadic pains in his head and his arms had increased since the grounding, too.  
  
Harry and Ron had exchanged owls several times those days, providing the only light in the worried, boring, lethargic mental darkness for Ron. Harry did indeed find the situation with Hermione worrisome, but was just as certain that there was nothing he could do to help since the Order was so carefully watching him.  
  
In trying to explain just how bad things were with him, Harry told of one day that, in exasperation, he had tried to take a walk to the park by himself just to be alone and get some fresh air. By the time he reached the end of the block, there were twelve anonymous' travelers who happened to be walking his way, certainly within five strides of reaching him should it become necessary. In addition, ravens and even a few owls (most definitely seeming out of place in the daytime) watched carefully from the trees, certain to fly for more assistance the instant something unexpected or unwelcome was noticed.  
  
Ron's reply had been that the two of them were equally imprisoned; he was only joking in part. The worse news was that there was even some speculation that Harry would be unable to join Ron at the Burrow or at Grimmauld Place due to the extensive security precautions. Ron didn't seem especially surprised; that was just the way his summer had been going.  
  
Finally, with all of his chores behind him and his mum off his back since he'd finished them all without complaint, Ron wandered back into the shed. If nothing else, it was cooler there, at least until the midday heat moved in. Although he was actually finished with the enormous task of sorting everything, Ron hadn't let on to his mum; she might find him yet something else to do. Plus he still wanted the motorbike for Harry's birthday, even if he would hardly be sending the refurbished bike to his best friend tied to Pig's leg. So he settled in to see what more could be done.  
  
How's it going? a familiar voice asked after Ron had spent several hours working on re-attaching the now-polished tailpipes.  
  
Ron looked up to see one of the friendlier faces around these days. Hi Dad, he said quietly. You're home early.I've brought you something, Arthur said in a whisper and with a twinkle in his eye. He reached inside his robes, pulling out two tall tins and setting them on the floor next to Ron.  
  
Ron reckoned he should have been excited at this gift from the thrilled expression on his father's face, but he wasn't quite certain why. Great, Dad, and it's... Perhaps if he acted like he simply had to search for the word...  
  
Arthur said excitedly. It's a ludicrant! You use it to make the pieces work better with one another--isn't that brilliant? Mave Harper came across them in some Muggle garage scandal he'd been sent to set right--something about a crazed Kneazle trapped inside the place all night--what a mess.  
  
Now Ron's interest was piqued. He pried the lid off of one tin with a long, flat piece of metal and stuck his fingers in it, removing his now covered fingers and rubbing the substance between them; he lifted his fingers to his nose. Smells the same as that black stuff you said was erl but it's clear. Wiping his finger on his shorts, he noticed that it left a dark mark that looked wet (even hours later, he eventually found out). Thanks, Dad. Whether or not he ever learned exactly what to do with the stuff, Ron could hardly deny his father's enthusiasm in supporting his little project.  
  
Any luck getting it started? Arthur Weasley asked anxiously.  
  
Nah. It needs a key, remember? And I haven't found one down here--probably lost. I can get it off the ground for a bit with magic, but without a key it won't start and actually fly forward on its own--at least I think that's the problem--and I think there may be a Magical Failsafe Charm on it, too, Ron explained. Sirius certainly must have loved this thing. He wasn't about to let anyone have a go at stealing it.He did love it--once, Arthur said sincerely, setting his briefcase on one of the tables and slipping out of his business robes to cool off in his shirtsleeves. He dragged over a large metal box Ron had learned was an air crashener (well, that was what his dad had said) and sat down near where Ron was working. Loved to fly it more than most anything. Didn't Remus tell you?He told me Sirius loved to fly, and especially the motorbike, but he didn't tell me much more, Ron said. He ended the letter so quickly that I figured he was having trouble thinking about it. He acted like you knew most of what happened with the motorbike ever since the time it belonged to Sirius, anyway.  
  
Arthur nodded his head a little. I suppose I do, as much as anyone. But Hagrid didn't bring the motorbike here at first, he rode it to Hogsmeade--You mean all those things really did happen? Ron asked with interest, stopping his work to sit back on the floor and listen. I mean, I know Harry's parents were killed and all-- but Hagrid really flew this motorbike to the Dursleys with Harry when he was a baby?Of course it happened. Hasn't Harry--? Arthur stopped, considering. Well, I suppose he doesn't like to talk about that night--he was too young to remember much anyway other than to repeat what he's been told. Yes, as soon as Hagrid had dropped off little Harry at the Dursleys, he said his goodbyes to Albus and Minerva. Things were a bit dicey that night, as you can imagine, and no one was certain when they'd be seeing one another again. Hagrid flew the motorbike to Lupin's house for safekeeping, but Remus, thinking by then that Sirius was a murderer and a traitor, wanted nothing to do with it, so poor Hagrid had to think of something else. Remus told him to junk it, but you know Hagrid and his big heart--he just refused to believe that Sirius was guilty and got it in his mind that the man would be acquitted. Hagrid already knew the motorbike was too large to be able to fly into Hogwarts proper or he likely would have taken it there. Ron asked. Hagrid was already thinking Sirius was innocent what with everything else that was going on? Even while Lupin thought he was guilty?There was a lot of bad information and many rumors flying around--people felt betrayed and frightened--it was difficult for anyone to make up their mind when they kept hearing conflicting reports. So, for that night at least, Hagrid flew the motorbike to just outside Hogsmeade and walked it to Rosmerta's place. He'd thought of going to Tom at the Leaky Cauldron, but he was afraid there might be too much traffic in and out of there for the murder investigation--and of course anyone found in possession of the motorbike would be interrogated on the basis that if they had the motorbike, they must have had some unknown contact with Sirius. Rosmerta, brave soul that she is, said it could be kept in her cellar until Hagrid found a better place. So that's where it stayed.Until you brought it here? Ron asked.  
  
Oh, no, no, no, Arthur chuckled. It's only been here a little more than a year. The story gets a bit sketchy there in the middle. At some point the motorbike left Rosmerta's and found its way to number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Strange, really, because Sirius was in Azkaban at the time, but someone managed to slip it by Sirius' mother and hide it in a cluttered corner of the cellar. As far as anyone could tell, the motorbike wasn't moved for years after Sirius' trial. It must have just sat and rotted along with that old house and Kreacher.  
  
Ron glanced over at the motorbike, which was really beginning to look quite classy, if you angled your gaze to avoid certain, erm, areas. I can guarantee that I've cleaned off more than ten or twelve years of cellar muck, so I'd definitely buy into that story. Then--don't tell me, Dad-- you found it at Grimmauld Place and wanted to bring it here to play with. His eyes sparkled as he felt certain he'd guessed the ending to the story.  
  
What! Certainly not! Arthur said in mock indignation. If truth be told, I was _asked_ to bring it here.Right, Dad, just like the Ministry asked you to bring the Anglia? Ron said.  
  
Arthur pursed his lips. Well, now--_that _was different--and a bit stickier, I'd say. Arthur pondered that thought a moment, then appeared anxious to return to their previous discussion. Actually, what happened was that the motorbike was rediscovered once the Order began to clean up Grimmauld Place and convert it into Headquarters. One day someone found the thing and hauled it upstairs, unaware it was the one that had belonged to Sirius. Once Sirius saw the motorbike he went into a rage, screaming at Remus for keeping it after he'd told Lupin to junk it years earlier--Sirius wanted to junk it too? After he'd loved it so much? Ron asked quizzically.  
  
It was the association he hated, not the bike, Arthur said. Every time Sirius saw it, it reminded him of the night Harry's parents were murdered--but more importantly, it reminded him of the night that he was framed for murder, only to waste away so many years of his life in Azkaban. And I'm sure the sting of betrayal dug deep as well. Ron said coldly. I could tell you what some of that betrayal feels like--and from the same source, too.As long as Sirius was a fugitive, the motorbike was a reminder of the freedom he didn't have. In any case, Remus finally calmed Sirius enough that he didn't object to being in the same house with it, but it was locked in a storage room and Sirius never touched it. In fact, Remus told me that Sirius had come to avoid even walking down that hallway because he once said the memories would reach out from under the door and grab him by the throat. Remus decided that he really might have to consider getting rid of the bike. But he didn't have the heart--once he found out Sirius really was innocent, he was actually in favor of keeping it.  
  
Ron looked a bit confused. So now that Sirius wanted to junk it, Remus wanted to keep it?  
  
Arthur nodded. Remus claimed he'd thought a lot about all of those years Sirius was wrongly imprisoned and somehow the memories wrapped themselves around what Sirius had told him about flying the motorbike. When they'd first left Hogwarts, Sirius used to rave on about the feeling of flying it--and that nothing else could ever make him feel so free. So Remus clung to the hope that Sirius would be acquitted one day, and that his first taste of freedom would be a ride on that motorbike. It would be a catharsis, of sorts, to help Sirius heal from all of the injustices he'd had to face in his life. By then, keeping the motorbike had become almost an obsession with Remus, years after he had wanted it destroyed under different circumstances. But Remus held on to the hope that someday Sirius would walk out of the Ministry chambers a free man; it was then that Remus would tell him about his beloved motorbike being safe and sound--if a bit unkempt--in the Weasleys' garage.I'll wager Mum was all for it, too, Ron teased.  
  
Well, your Mum, bless her heart, hasn't the... appreciation... for these things that some people have, Arthur said. So it just sort of...slipped by...into the shed one day--pure coincidence that she wasn't home at the time, I'm sure.In other words, I was right to keep it a secret? Ron asked, raising a brow at his dad.  
  
Oh, yes, I would think so, Arthur assured dryly. She's a very busy woman--no need to worry your mum over something as trivial as that.  
  
Arthur and his youngest son sat in silence a short time, staring at the motorbike with all due reverence for its past. Ron finally stood and picked up the crumpled tarp lying on the floor.  
  
Harry's going to love it, Ron, Arthur finally said softly, still admiring the motorbike a moment before Ron carefully pulled the tarp over to cover it.  
  
Hope so, Ron said. It is starting to look really nice--too bad it doesn't work.That is a pity, Arthur agreed. But then, your mum's always worried you kids will do something stupid like you did with the car, so it's probably for the best. Ron chuckled, --something stupid? Ron knew very well his father was actually quite jealous that he'd never had the opportunity to do more than actually drive the Anglia on the crowded Muggle city streets; what he'd always wished to do was fly it.  
  
Arthur smiled knowingly at Ron. Now you know I've always told you how very wrong I thought that was, haven't I? Even if you and the twins had a noble reason for taking it. And there was indeed that unfortunate incident with the Whomping Willow later--not a very good thing, that. Ron was aware that his father had taken some heavy heat from his Ministry superiors over the incident, but the two of them had talked it out long ago. Father and son shared a smile that told them they both knew precisely what the other was thinking and feeling at that moment and that all was forgiven, no matter what.  
  
Why don't you come in to work with me tomorrow? Arthur asked. It'll get you out of the house. We can ask around to see if anyone knows where you might run across some motorbike parts in London. Do you have any idea which ones you need? Ron answered. Actually, going to work with his father didn't sound like a bad idea compared to sitting around here another boring day. There really wasn't much more he could do on the motorbike anyway until he found a way to get some replacement parts. He looked up at his father in appreciation. Yeah-- why not? 


	9. Perverse Pokes and Purple Halos

**_A/N:_**_ Once again we had the whole wonderful team at work on this one. Thank you to my marvelous betas, **Christina, Seakays,** and **sunshyndaisies, **who are always so very generous with their time and talent.  
  
**Dear Readers:** Be **sure** to check out the artwork of my lovely friend and SoCal neighbor **sveltskye **on the SugarQuill,  
who somehow managed to pluck the scar scene' from Chapter Five of this story directly from my mind and bring it to wonderful, realistic life first on paper, then on-screen at SQ. Thank you, **sveltskye**, first for flattering me by choosing my scene to draw, and once more for completing the drawing so beautifully that I'm truly in awe of your talent.  
  
Finally, **thank you** to those **very few readers **_****who have reviewed here on (4,000 hits and 23 reviews???). What with the new format being such a pain to get posted and so little interest from readers in responding, I may soon be letting this story fall by the wayside here. But don't worry, if someone is truly interested in seeing through with me, I'll be glad to give you some alternate addresses for further chapter postings and fair warning that it's my final posting should I decide to do so.  
  
_  
**NZ**_**  
****  
  
Chapter 9  
  
Perverse Pokes and Purple Halos  
  
******

  
Hermione waited anxiously at her table in the commons after breakfast. She had only picked at her food, feeling apprehensive about what the day would bring. Christopher Null was already a few minutes late in meeting her at the appointed time, but from what she already knew of him, this was nothing unusual. Still, this was to be her first big day learning what her internship responsibilities would be and working with the Yeti; although she was nervous, she was also eager to get started.  
  
Miss Granger will be wanting for more pumpkin juice? Tulip asked at her side, her bright blue eyes shining as she held out the pitcher in her hand.  
  
No, thank you, Tulip, Hermione answered. I'm fine.  
  
Hermione watched Tulip walk toward three men and a woman in white lab robes at another table. She hadn't been introduced to any of them and was feeling just a little too unsure of herself to walk over and step into their conversation. Hermione's eyes focused on the woman. _If only I'd pushed harder to meet her last night...  
  
_  
  
Tod had taken Hermione to her quarters yesterday afternoon, which were set up in one of the three small cabins toward the back of the camp. He'd shown her where everything was located: extra pillows and blankets, soap and towels. He set her luggage by the rustic bureau so that she could unpack with ease, and gave her the spells to use should the pipes get temperamental and decide to belch only rust instead of hot water. On his way out, Tod remembered to give Hermione the pre-set spell to lock all her windows and doors for complete security, then had her choose her own password to complete it. Of course, he looked at her oddly when she giggled over her choice (but then, she knew Ron would kill her if he knew she was using ).  
  
After unpacking, cleaning up, and resting a bit, Hermione had gone to dinner, sitting with Dr. Null and discussing his prior work with dragon genetics, the work that had eventually earned him the Crystobel Prize. She was fascinated by the way he so casually discussed with her his theories of worldwide dragon genetic interplay and its effects on the entire genus. In fact, it was these exact theories which had distinguished him as one of the great scientific minds of their time. Dragons are fascinating, Null had said, but eventually I found them to be very limiting. Creatures of intelligence--now there's a worthy subject--_that's_ where my interests lie now! (To emphasize his point, Dr. Null had stabbed his butter knife into the air, which had been covered in gravy--Hermione had to quickly dodge a flying glob and try to note where it had slopped onto the floor behind her to avoid it later. Dr. Null, of course, was entirely unaware and continued his meal...)  
  
When no one else happened into the commons during the entire time she and Dr. Null were eating their delicious dinners, Hermione began to feel it a bit odd. But Tulip certainly didn't act as if it was strange to be serving just the two of them; perhaps no one had a regular eating schedule here.  
  
After they'd finished, Hermione asked about owling her parents and Dr. Null arranged for Tod to send a post owl about an hour later. Dr. Null finally asked Hermione if she was settling in all right, set up their meeting time for the morning, and then excused himself to return to the lab for what he claimed would be just mopping up a few details.  
  
Feeling well taken care of, but just a little off-kilter on her first night alone, Hermione realized that she wished she could talk to Harry and Ron somehow. They already seemed so far away, and though she knew that writing to her parents would relieve some of her at odds' feelings, there were things about her world that her parents just couldn't understand. If she'd had the chance to owl her friends, too, there would be so much to tell them about Thaddeus Sharpe and Christopher Null, about the camp and the few people she'd met, and about how anxious she was to get started.  
  
Wandering back to her door in the near-dark and muttering the word under her breath (not to mention still smiling over it), Hermione heard a noise nearby; she quickly turned to see a woman leaving the cabin next to hers. Just after stepping through the doorway, the woman snapped her gaze toward Hermione and stared, but without so much as a nod of the head to acknowledge her presence. The woman then stepped down and hurried quickly away toward the commons.  
  
Now this same woman sat at the table with others, participating little in their conversation but appearing to be accepted as part of their group nonetheless. Trying to casually look their direction, Hermione could see a bit of the woman from the side. Her straight, stringy, mousy brown hair was pulled back on one side with a small gold clip and her narrow, oblong black glasses stood out in stark contrast to her pale complexion.  
  
As if she could feel Hermione's eyes on her, the woman started to turn her direction, then just as quickly stopped and jerked her head the other way. Hermione wondered if she had done that on purpose or if her own mind was simply playing tricks on her; she was feeling a bit awkward still sitting alone. Hermione decided then and there to bring a book along from now on when she came to the commons, just in case. Where_ was_ Dr. Null?  
  
The group at the table finished their meals and stood to leave. As they all headed for the door, Hermione casually adjusted her body so that she faced away from their path. At that moment she wished she was more comfortable with people she didn't know; had she had the political acumen of someone like Thaddeus Sharpe, she would have easily been able to walk up and say hello. On the other hand, the others made no move to welcome her either; but then, Hermione realized she had little experience in an adult work situation--maybe that was just the way things were.  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the group exiting. She noted that one of the men, the one who had seemed to do most of the talking at the table in a voice so deep that she couldn't discern anything he'd said, put his hand on the woman's back to help usher her out the door. But the interesting part was that he had left his hand there just a bit too long and too insistently for it to have been simply a casual gesture. Hermione arched her eyebrows at no one and returned her gaze to her lonely table.  
  
As luck would have it, Dr. Null arrived only a few minutes after the group had left. He was dressed in different clothes, but appeared to be in much the same disarray as he had been the day before.  
  
Good morning, Miss Granger, he said. Sorry I'm late--somehow just lost track of the time...Good morning, sir, Hermione answered, not surprised by the nature of his excuse. She noticed that Tulip was wiping her hands on a towel next to the door by the kitchen on her way out to greet Dr. Null.  
  
Ready for your first day? Null asked.  
  
Hermione looked a bit perplexed. Oh, yes, but...aren't you going to eat? Null asked, as if Hermione's question had been a very odd one. Oh--I should have mentioned...I usually rise early and eat something small then. Too much sleep time means too much time wasted not working on our project--not that you're obligated to keep such ridiculous hours while you're here.You're wanting something else to be eating now, doctor sir? Tulip asked.  
  
No, thank you, Tulip. But I'd be grateful for one very large cup of strong coffee to take back to the lab. Anything to take along, Miss Granger? And, by the way, would it be too awkward for me to call you I think I've had my fill of breakfast, she said. And Hermione would be just fine. In fact, it will seem less like you're one of my professors then--although, I suppose that in a way, you are.But this is a job--even if it is an internship--and you may consider me a co-worker then, Hermione, he said, reaching out to grab the large, steaming mug from Tulip, who had re-appeared with it so fast that Hermione wondered if she'd Apparated to the kitchen and back.  
  
Let's head for the lab, Dr. Null said.  
  
Hermione felt a little thrill of excitement run through her. This was the moment she'd been waiting for.  
  
Have you had a chance to read much about the Yeti? Dr. Null asked as they were walking across the quad.  
  
Hermione tried to walk rather close to Dr. Null to keep up with his conversation, but it was difficult when a small wave of coffee sloshed over the edge of his cup and splashed at her toes with every step.  
  
There hasn't been a lot published, I know, he continued. The Yeti are usually very reclusive beings, wanting to be left in peace to live their lives, even by those of us who understand their circumstances better than non-magical peoples. Hermione started, trying to think of something that didn't sound like a lame excuse, I know I had almost a week to prepare, but to be honest, I didn't have much time to read. She had carefully avoided reading for hours while at the Burrow, in part to spend as much time as possible with Ron to appease him, _as if that helped at all, _she thought, frowning a bit. It hadn't been much of an imposition because she was having a good time there-- only now she felt rather sheepish at having to answer Dr. Null's question this way.  
  
No matter, he said. I have some excellent books on the subject, very difficult to locate, that I would be glad to loan you while you're here. I'll give you Trapper's book to start-- you've heard of Berguson Trapper?Wasn't he a wizard explorer of some sort? Hermione asked.  
  
You could say that, Null replied. Mountaineer, more like it, but he climbed pretty much anything that was in his way. Trapper was mapping some mountains near Mt. Everest in 1951--the Gauri Sankar range on the South Tibetan Rim. A Muggle explorer by the name of Eric Shipton came across his camp and decided to camp nearby since the freezing cold of the mountains in November didn't seem so intense where Trapper and his two Sherpa guides had their tents. Of course, Shipton had no idea the cold was held at bay by magic, but then apparently Trapper's use of magic had attracted some attention he wasn't expecting. The next day the two groups of explorers set off in opposite directions and soon Trapper's group had found some enormous tracks.Ahh, Yeti tracks? Hermione asked.  
  
Yeti tracks, Null confirmed. Now we wizards had already known for hundreds of years of the existence of the Yeti, but this led to the first known official' report by a Muggle. Problem is, the whole thing was a foul-up. Trapper's group followed the tracks to a cave, then the Sherpa people, who've dealt with the Yeti and their magic for thousands of years, coaxed the Yeti out of its cave with some warm meat. Trapper stood close to the Yeti to record notes on its location and its apparent health, one of his obligations since the Ministry Science Foundation supported his expeditions.The Ministry was funding Yeti studies even way back then? Hermione asked.  
  
They funded the scientific expeditions--indeed they did--probably through one of Sharpe's ancestors, too, Null said, laughing.  
  
Hermione smiled, but wasn't certain if that was meant to be a joke or not.  
  
Null, oblivious, continued. Shipton's group came walking up behind them, having run into an impassable crevasse in the direction they'd gone. The Yeti, of course, disappeared instantly as they do, and though Shipton stood in shock at the momentary sight of one, Trapper was uncertain what to do with Shipton. The Sherpa were all magical people anyway so they were no problem. Shipton's Muggle partner, Ward, was bringing up the rear and didn't get there in time to see the Yeti. But while Trapper knew he should just Obliviate Shipton because the Yeti were magical beings, he was afraid to interfere with Muggle discovery either. So he didn't use a full Memory Charm, he used the Confundus Charm and hoped that would be the end of it.And it wasn't, I trust? No. Trapper didn't know the Muggles had taken footprint photos on their way up, and there you are. Shipton developed the pictures and told his story once he was down the mountain, even sent the photos to a museum to be displayed. But then the man insisted the enormous footprints were from either a monkey or a bear, which looked quite impossible from the snapshots. The Confundus Charm worked well, as many people were now unconvinced by his story, yet the photographs were, unfortunately, proof. But in any case, we named our camp Trapperton in honor of all of his work with the Yeti.That's remarkable! I'd love to read his book--and the others, Hermione said as the two of them approached the closest door of the gray stucco building. Thank you for offering to loan them to me. I'm sure I'll have more time to read now.Probably so, though I'm not completely certain of that, Null said. For now, here we are. Miss Research Assistant-- our lab. Dr. Null held the door open, allowing Hermione to step inside.  
  
She stared in awe at the huge room around her, trying to convince herself that she was still standing inside a building. For all Hermione could tell, she was out on the mountainside, standing in the forest and looking toward a natural cave in the rocks; she also thought that there must have been some use of wizard space to make the area seem so vast. A movement in the farthest extremities of the room caught her attention, but the zoolowizard next to her didn't seem to notice anything.  
  
This is one of the socialization labs, Dr. Null explained. There's another one nearly identical to it at the other end of the building. Although we of course observe the Yeti in their natural habitats--well, their new' habitats--outside the compound fences, a major goal of our project is to find the cause of their recent behavioral changes. This room forces them closer together so that they must deal with one another rather than avoid each other by simply moving farther out into the habitat. We've done this partly to evaluate what shrinking habitats are doing to their social structure and partly because we have some means of control over them here, should things get out of hand between any of them.Out of hand? Hermione questioned.  
  
Except for mates, we never leave two Yeti together in the same room unless they're being closely watched-- Dr. Null said, --and always with some of Voyde's men on hand. The males, especially, can be very difficult to handle if they're agitated--Will I be meeting this Hermione asked, trying to sound off-handed about it. She didn't want to sound impatient, but the fact was, she was tired of hearing Voyde's name without knowing who he was.  
  
At that moment, a tall bush much closer to them shivered and a large, fluffy mound of taffy-colored fur appeared over the top.  
  
Well, well, the zoolowizard said without acknowledging the fur's' presence. But his voice became hushed, as if whatever was nearby could understand what he was saying. Starr has found us already. Don't look to your left now-- I assume you saw her? Just speak straight to me to answer. We'll pretend to continue our conversation.Yes, I saw... something, Hermione said, her heart in her throat, her eyes focused on Dr. Null's face. She wasn't sure whether his hushed tone meant this was good thing or a bad one.  
  
he replied, casually taking a sip of his coffee. She's the only one in this chamber at the moment, I believe. Starr is a middle-aged female, about one hundred and thirty years old -- inquisitive and easy to teach, but quite shy until she's familiar with someone. She knows me well enough already and would ordinarily stroll right out unless one of the males had been threatening her. But it's not me she's worried about right now-- it's you. She hasn't seen many human females as it is and probably never one your age, so we're just going to give her a chance to get a good, long look.  
  
Hermione fought the urge to turn in the direction of the eyes she could now feel boring straight into her. For some reason, gooseflesh ran along her neck and she couldn't think of anything intelligent to say to Dr. Null.  
  
We've found this is the best approach, even with the males, though you won't be meeting them very soon, at least until you've had alot more experience, Dr. Null said. To be honest, I'm not certain what they'll think of a female your age. They're probably the closest beings, species-wise, to Homo sapiens that still exist. Some scientists have even considered the possibility that the Yeti are the missing link' between apes and humans, but due to their strong magical abilities, it's more likely they're somewhere on the road between apes and wizardkind. I'd like to be able to fully use your assistance with them, so I'm really hoping the younger males don't feel the need to defend you like one of their harem once you've met.  
  
A strange, helplessly horrified expression must have crossed her face at that point because Dr. Null rolled his eyes at himself and explained further. I'm sorry -- I'm not used to being gentle about explaining instinctive behavior -- too much time around zoolowizards and other such hardened scientists, I suppose. While you're working with the Yeti, you may have to accept the fact that humans and wizards alike were once animalistic themselves, and though thousands of years of socialization have managed to subdue them somewhat, the baser instincts still exist in us. The Yeti can sense that.  
  
Dr. Null's gaze, having been more or less focused on her as he spoke, now moved high over Hermione's left shoulder and he spoke very softly and gently. Hello, Starr... Friend...Friend.  
  
Hermione could feel something brushing her back and warm breath over her shoulder, but she sensed she still needed to hold still so as not to frighten Starr. Suddenly she felt movement in her hair, as if fingers were rubbing the strands between them and tangling in it to test its texture. The gooseflesh returned in earnest when she felt pressure on her arm. Without moving her head she glanced down from the corner of her eye to see a very large, thick, padded finger attached to a very large ape-like hand running its way down her shirtsleeve.  
  
Friend, Starr, Dr. Null repeated. Friend turn. He spoke in clear, firm, but gentle tones to the being behind Hermione. Okay, she's prepared for you to turn around and face her -- I believe. She's never been aggressive at all, so I don't expect any problems, but try not to make any sudden movements, especially to raise your hands above shoulder level for any reason.  
  
Feeling her heart pounding, Hermione feared that her reaction to a Yeti this close might cause her to jump or gasp. She was determined to remain calm and steady and slowly began to move on the balls of her feet. As she turned, the sight that came into view in front of her was at once terrifying and wonderful.  
  
Directly in front of her stood what could only be described as a magnificent creature. Starr was very tall, though quite average for a Yeti, and Hermione's straight-ahead gaze hit the creature just above her navel (or where a navel would be if it wasn't covered with fur). In fact, Starr's height must have been very close to Hagrid's, if Hermione's estimates were correct. Aside from most of her face and the palms of her hands (probably the soles of her feet, too, Hermione surmised) the Yeti was covered in long, lush fur of the most lovely shade of creamy beige. The areas uncovered by fur revealed an underlying skin tone of a warm chocolate brown. Hermione's gaze moved to Starr's face, which displayed her most amazing feature: two large, beautiful, and definitely feminine eyes in the deepest shade of purple.  
  
Hermione swallowed a gasp as Starr reached toward her arm and lifted her wrist between her gigantic thumb and forefinger. Twisting Hermione's arm gently, the Yeti inspected everything about her hand, which looked positively tiny in comparison to Starr's.  
  
A door closed soundly at the back of the room. Starr's attention and her body swung in that direction immediately, yanking Hermione's arm in her movement. Although it wasn't enough to hurt her much, it did make Hermione painfully aware of just how strong Starr was and how easily a Yeti could hurt human or wizard alike if they so desired.  
  
Although Hermione could see no one in the direction of the sound, Starr must have either had a sixth sense for it or a better vantage point, for when the creature glanced back into Hermione's eyes for a split second, Hermione was certain she could read panic there. The Yeti then released Hermione's arm and quickly crouched into a ball, wrapping her long, strong arms around her knees; then she promptly disappeared.  
  
Very vaguely, Hermione could see a faint purple circular glow like a halo, first moving low along the ground for a few feet and then disappearing at a higher level as it moved into the taller brush.  
  
Was that her? Hermione asked in amazement.  
  
Dr. Null stood and stared at the point where the halo disappeared, his mind obviously processing a number of thoughts at once. he whispered quietly, then seemed to come to his senses. I'm sorry--did you say something?  
  
Hermione blinked, wondering if she was going to have wave her hands and whistle before ever getting a response from Null the first time she asked something. Was that her? That circle? Or did she just disappear?The Yeti have had the ability to silently disappear for thousands of years, Null explained. In fact, that's why most Muggles don't believe in their existence at all. Chances are there are humans who've had Yeti standing right next to them while they insisted the creatures didn't exist. But then, Muggles are ridiculously prone to deny the existence of anything they can't see.But--but the circle--that purple circle that moved away? Hermione repeated.  
  
That was her--but the circle is a spell we've cast to be able to track the Yeti even when they're invisible. The Yeti aren't very fond of them around their necks and have tried to dilute the spell somewhat, which is why the circle was so faded. But they haven't been able to do away with them altogether and have become accustomed to them enough that it doesn't change their behaviors, so we leave them because they're necessary for us.Was she startled by the sound or--? She looked a bit panicked, Hermione said, sounding concerned.  
  
As I've said, Starr is shy anyway--it's just her nature--and she probably wasn't sure who entered the building. She tends to disappear until she's sure it's someone she feels comfortable with. Dr. Null drank what seemed to be the last bit of his coffee. Let's go on into the offices and I'll show you to your, er, work station. He led off and Hermione followed.  
  
As they approached the wall, Hermione could see they seemed to be heading for an area where there was a large red flower, different from any of the surrounding foliage. Dr. Null approached the wall and did a quiet at the flower, turning to tell her, These are our exit markers for the soc labs. If you need to get out, look for one of these.  
  
Stepping through the door that opened, Hermione found herself in a much smaller, darkened one-story room. It contained three or four desks and numerous filing cabinets, aside from some other random tables and counters, plus there were some instruments and contraptions that looked as though they'd been shoved in the corner and left for some time. The wall holding the door she'd just passed through was indeed made of one-way glass, as was the wall opposite which seemed to have a lab like the one where she'd just been on the other side. A spiral staircase in the corner must have led to another room upstairs.  
  
Scanning the collection of desks, she spied one of the largest ones that was closest to the glass-walled lab where Starr had been. Judging from the large stack of papers, files, open books, writing utensils, ink jars (one spilled), and used coffee and tea cups that sat on its surface, this was the desk of Dr. Null.  
  
Ah, here we are, Dr. Null said, moving to stand next to the desk Hermione had picked as his. This is my area, and that will be yours.  
  
Hermione hadn't even noticed another desk behind her because she'd thought it was only a very large stack of old volumes and papers. She must have stared at it rather incredulously because the zoolowizard seemed to feel the need to say something more.  
  
I'm afraid I haven't had a chance to clean it up much--and it's been a while since I had an intern to help out, so it became a bit--full--when I needed more space. Dr. Null at least seemed to have the decency to feel badly about it--and seemed to remember having buried it himself, Hermione thought. If the others weren't already taken, I would be glad to let you have one of those instead.  
  
It was rather dim in the office room, especially compared to the natural light that was pouring in from the glass ceilings of the lab rooms on either end, but Hermione couldn't see anyone else working at any of the other desks. There was one other desk that was nearly as buried in research materials as Null's.  
  
Well--where is everyone? Hermione asked, realizing it sounded just a bit blunt after it came out of her mouth.  
  
Some are out in the natural habitats, many work the night shift when the Yeti are often more active, instead of the day, Dr. Null explained. But not everyone's gone. Here--come on over.  
  
Hermione followed Dr. Null, though she wasn't sure where he was leading. He walked to the other desk with the great amounts of paperwork stacked on it, but there was an oil lamp burning there.   
  
Watching carefully, Hermione realized that there really had been someone there all along, and that she'd been sitting in one position without moving the whole time they were in the room. _ Or else, surely, I would have noticed she was here..._Hermione thought. The woman from the breakfast table, from the cabin next to hers, cautiously leaned back from the stack of paperwork where she'd been hidden and slowly began to stand. She was glancing around nervously as if she had some reason to be wary, even though she seemed to try and manage a tiny smile when Dr. Null approached.  
  
Null repeated. This is Hermione Granger, my new research assistant.  
  
Hermione held out her hand to the woman, who seemed to be very timid and wouldn't meet her eyes.  
  
Hermione, this is Dr. Pamela Voyde.  
  
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV  
  
Ron stood with his father outside of the battered telephone box. He tried to ignore the eerie familiarity of it, even though his last visit to this place had been several months ago and in the dark.  
  
Although his father usually Apparated to work and back home again, Arthur had insisted that the two of them use a Portkey to leave them just outside the telephone box for some reason. He'd arranged for the Portkey to be set to this position from the Burrow's fireplace by contacting the Ministry office. (Ministry officials were often allowed to keep one Portkey at home, pre-set with the home location as a from' address and programmable from the Ministry Portkey office once clearance was obtained for any to' address. This enabled employees to be able to travel on short notice, sometimes even to places that lacked a Floo Network connection.)  
  
Why didn't we just Floo into the Ministry? Ron asked, jostling the small box of failed motorbike parts that he'd brought along.  
  
his father started, I expect all's been taken care of, but ...If we get past the first entry, we'll know everything's fine. Arthur stepped into the telephone box.  
  
Ron followed, pulling the door closed behind him, though it made for close quarters with his father inside. _How in the world did we fit six people in here that night?_  
  
Be ready, just in case... Arthur repeated, dialing the requisite phone number.  
  
Ron knew his father often unwittingly spoke in riddles, but this one was even more obscure than usual. Ron asked again. What are you on about, Dad?  
  
The female voice emanated from around them. Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business.  
  
Ron started to speak into the phone, but his father pushed him away. Arthur Weasley, Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, Employee Badge #5A6-87-SQ and Ronald Weasley, Employee Guest.Thank you, the cool voice said.  
  
A long, empty silence followed, which made Arthur begin to look around nervously. he said, leaning forward to jam two fingers into the coin return slot repeatedly. Damn you, Longley--  
  
Blaring sirens suddenly ripped through the silence and both Weasleys covered their ears in response. Ron squirmed to push the doors open, but they wouldn't budge.  
  
They're locked! he yelled.  
  
Arthur Weasley simply closed his eyes as if he might have expected this all along and silently nodded.  
  
He'd no sooner finished adding to Ron's confusion with this action than the phone box began to drop rapidly through the dark floors below, not in the slow, gentle movement Ron remembered, but in a stomach-lifting plummet. Yet it didn't take them to the Atrium level. At some point before then, the phone box tilted precariously to one side, slamming both Ron and his father against the glass.  
  
What's happening?! Ron yelled as the sirens relented a bit in volume.  
  
his father yelled back.  
  
Ron shouted, then a sickening feeling punched him directly in the gut. Oh no...  
  
The sirens stopped abruptly and the phone box bumped to a halt in complete darkness. It righted itself, and another voice, this time male and not nearly so cool and pleasant as the first, rained down upon them. Employee and Guest, you have been detained to complete Phase Two security clearance. Please leave wands where they cannot be accessed and lace fingers of both hands behind your heads. When the doors open, wait for instructions before stepping through them. Disregarding these instructions may result in injury or death.  
  
Ron set his box of parts down on the floor before following his father's lead and placing his hands behind his head. he said, his voice a bit high and thin. Is this about --? Arthur interrupted. It'll be fine. Longley told me he took care of it. Just do what they say. We'll be all right in a few minutes when we get it all straightened out.  
  
The doors before them opened slowly and a glaring light shone straight into their faces. After their eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, Arthur and Ron found themselves staring down the shafts of no less than five wands pointed directly at their hearts.  
  
Step carefully through the door, Arthur Weasley, the voice said. Ron could see a wizard across the room behind a glass shield of some sort pointing his wand at his throat; his was apparently the voice they were listening to. You have been scanned and cleared for entry.  
  
Arthur did as he was told and stepped through the line of security wizards, pausing to glance meaningfully into the faces of several of them. Ron narrowed his eyes in the bright light, but couldn't make out their features. He felt very vulnerable like this with his hands laced behind his head and so far away from the wand in his back pocket. But then, that was probably the point.  
  
Employee Guest, step forward slowly into the room. Leave hands in position, please.  
  
Ron took a deep breath and stepped toward the line of wands. He could practically feel their points following him as he moved. Once he was out of the light he began to see he was in a stark room of gray, surrounded by a group of five wizards and witches.  
  
The man behind the screen craned his neck to see past the group of people in the middle of the floor and squinted into the telephone box. That box there in the lift. What is that, boy?Erm, parts-- Ron was thinking frantically, knowing that he didn't dare mention he and his dad had Sirius Black's flying motorbike at home that they happened to be renovating. Not sure what from--something Muggle. My dad was bringing them in for verification in his office.That true, Weasley? the voice asked.  
  
Ron and Arthur echoed, though Ron's face went red when he realized the wizard had only been talking to his father.  
  
Yes, sir, Arthur repeated. May I show you?Fine, then. Wand check for the guest--now identified as Weasley junior, the voice-wizard ordered.  
  
_Weasley junior? Ergh! _Ron felt his wand being removed from his back jeans pocket and a security witch came from behind him; she crossed the room to go beyond the glass screen and began doing something at the far side of the voice-wizard.  
  
Arthur re-entered the telephone box and picked up the small box of motorcycle parts, carrying them to the wizard behind the screen. The two men began to speak and the voice-wizard scrabbled around in the box a moment disinterestedly, but Ron could hear nothing of what they said.  
  
The witch -- an older, frizzy-haired woman with a stern and haggard face and a missing front tooth -- finished quickly. She stumbled once as she walked back across the room, then moved behind Ron again. As she returned his wand to his back pocket, he jumped when the tip was deliberately and stoutly poked into him. Frowning at the intrusion, he glanced over at the witch, who returned to her position in the circle around him but didn't point her wand again. Instead, to his horror, she winked and gave him a sly little smile.  
  
His stomach already most unsettled from nerves and the harrowing sideways phone box ride, Ron jerked his gaze away from her to stare straight ahead and fought the urge to wretch at this final indignity.  
  
A few minutes later, Arthur stepped out from behind the glass and walked toward his son with a little silver badge in his hand. His father set the box of parts on the floor for a moment, reached out, and quickly pinned the badge on Ron's shirt.  
  
Ronald Weasley, the voice said. You have been granted a one-day security clearance under the supervision of your father, Arthur Weasley. Security wizards Shacklebolt and Fiddley will escort you to the main corridor. Have a nice day.  
  
_A nice day, my arse!_ Ron thought. He wondered if the Shacklebolt' was the same Kingsley Shacklebolt he knew from the Order even though he didn't think he recognized anyone standing in front of him. But he most certainly hoped that Fiddley was not the witch with the sly little smile.  
  
And she was.  
  
A tall wizard grabbed his left arm from behind as did the dark little witch from the right, guiding him out into the corridor. The four of them walked in silence for a distance down the empty hallway, at which point the little witch seemed to explode.  
  
she laughed. She let go of Ron's arm and stopped to hold her stomach, doubling over. She obviously couldn't breathe long enough to get her sentence out.  
  
What's so bloody funny? Ron snapped, even though he knew he should have held  
back with a security witch.  
  
You--you --should have seen your face! Bwahahaha! she started in again. The three males just looked at one another blankly. But this time when she stood straight and began to compose herself, he realized that her features had changed.  
  
A slow, knowing smile started to spread across Ron's face and he began to shake his head. Tonks. I will never forgive you for that._ Never_ -- you hear me?  
  
Kingsley Shacklebolt smiled, looking between the two of them. Something must have been quite good --what did I miss? Forgive her for what?  
  
Ron felt his ears going hot as he glared at Tonks. Never mind. _ She_ knows.  
  
This started Tonks in on another round of guffaws. The two men shrugged and ignored her while Ron narrowed his eyes at her and shook his head.  
  
Arthur turned to Kingsley and pointed around them, a question on his face.  
  
No, we're okay here. No bugs, Shacklebolt confirmed.  
  
What happened with Longley? Arthur asked. I thought he had it covered.We thought so, too, Kingsley said. But they keep updating the security lists--it's hard to make sure we've changed the most current one because they have this odd rotation system. Sorry about the cloak and dagger act -- there's been this practice scenario recently about someone kidnapping an employee and holding them at wandpoint to get inside the building. Too many self-imagined heroes in this place--what's sad is they wouldn't see a real security risk for the nose on their faces...I'm a security risk? Ron asked, afraid that he already knew the answer. This is about the night we broke in, isn't it?  
  
Shacklebolt pressed his lips together and nodded his head. Mostly, yes. They'll get past it, of course. But right now, we're on the highest alert level possible. Anyone who was in the building that night is subject to a shakedown by security, no matter what their rank -- and your name came up. The Ministry is almost as uneasy about you kids being here as they are about the Death Eaters. Sorry to say this, but wherever you and  
your friends go,_ things_ start to happen.Reckon I'd be stupid to deny that, Ron admitted.  
  
We thought Dumbledore had done something to get your names off of the list, but you all turned up on it again.That's one reason I didn't want to try and Floo in, Ron, Arthur said. I didn't think you wanted to go through all the bells and whistles right out there in the middle of the Atrium in case things didn't work out. At least this way you only had to deal with the security wizards.Some of whom are friends, Tonks said, looping her arm through Ron's as if she was trying to make peace.  
_  
  
Were_ friends, mind you, Ron said, sneering down at her. And mind that I don't get angry any more, I just get even.  
  
She made a face in mock fear at his remark, then settled in to listen carefully to Arthur and Shacklebolt.  
  
In spite of his tough talk, it bothered Ron that Tonks left her arm in place through his, not only because she might have been able to see the scars peeking out from under his long shirt sleeve at this close range, but just _because..._He knew it meant absolutely nothing and was as natural as breathing for her, but he wasn't used to any female friends except Hermione even _standing_ that close--it only made him think of how much farther away he was than Harry to ever being more than friends with a girl. After all, Harry had got pretty close to Cho...or was it Cho who got close to Harry? Either way, Harry had been there, stupid Weasley hadn't--and with these scars, the chances were looking slimmer all the time, _unless Hermione..._  
  
Have we got the other situation set up and ready to go? Arthur asked Kingsley. Hopefully set to come off better than this did?As far as we can tell, it should go flawlessly, Shacklebolt said. Right, Miss Fiddley?  
  
Tonks transformed immediately into the older woman again and Ron yanked his arm away from her in disgust; she snickered at him. Good of Bruta Fiddley to get the grippe just when we needed a spot in Security. But it's damned irritating to have to call myself in sick and still come to work. Ah, what I do for the Order...  
  
The four of them continued walking, climbing a flight of stairs that took them to the Atrium through the door at the top. As soon as the group entered the Atrium, Shacklebolt and Tonks (as Fiddley) resumed their professional manner, behaving as if they barely knew Arthur and had no use for Ron at all.  
  
Ron heard Tonks mutter under her breath to his father. O-nine-thirty, Floo five.  
  
Something odd was definitely going on that he knew nothing about. Whether it was Order business or not, he wasn't certain, but he didn't understand why his father would bring him in to work on a day when something very important was going on. And, after all, it had been his father's idea. Surely he hadn't forgotten whatever this was...It was also strange that his father had put him through the entire security ordeal just for a day at work with him, even though he knew they might have a problem getting in. All this over replacing the motorbike parts? But then, it was Arthur Weasley, Muggle-o-maniac extraordinaire--perhaps he was indeed that determined to get that motorbike fixed up for Harry.  
  
Ron and Arthur walked toward the main lifts and finally found their way down to the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. Arthur walked into his office and dropped the box of parts on top of the papers stacked on his desk, which were numerous and certainly in no particular order. Several paper airplane memos lay in strict formation in his father's Inbox.  
  
It took a few moments for Ron to realize there was someone else in the room. Arthur's office-mate, Perkins, had been leaning down looking through something deep in a bottom desk drawer, so Ron had nearly helped himself to the man's chair before discovering there was already someone in it. The pleasant greetings over, Ron had to wait some time leaning against the wall (since there was no room for another chair in the office) before Perkins left on an errand and he had his father to himself.  
  
Ron questioned quietly, but apparently not quietly enough. Something big happening at o-nine-thirty?Oh, yes, Arthur said loudly, meeting Sam for coffee at o-nine-thirty. He's seeing about those tickets to the train museum for me. Mr. Weasley nodded his head toward the ceiling and the walls, obviously trying to indicate to Ron that there was listening going on. It's about nine o'clock now, so it won't be long before we go back up, but I do have a few urgent issues to take care of before then. Arthur seated himself, shuffled around in the papers nearest the top of his stack, and started to work.  
  
Though his curiosity was still piqued, Ron made himself comfortable in Perkins' chair and managed to entertain himself by perusing all of the Muggle artifact newspaper and magazine clippings pinned to the bulletin board behind the desk. He knew his father would let him in on the big secret if he could, as soon as it was safely possible. Every so often a paper airplane memo would fly in and land itself in his father's or Perkins' inbox, and he noticed that his father sent a few on their way as well.  
  
Ron was relieved when his father stood and asked if he was ready to go meet Sam. He got up and prepared to leave the office, but Arthur suddenly stopped, looking perplexed, and visually scanned his area. Ah! This will do nicely! He picked up the box of motorcycle parts, Spell-o-Taped it sealed, then began to root around on his desk for his quill.  
  
Dad, why are we taking this now? Ron asked. Don't you have to wait until this afternoon--  
  
Shoving the sealed box into Ron's hands, Arthur interrupted by grabbing his son's elbow and pushing him out into the deserted corridor, speaking softly nonetheless.  
  
You have a very important delivery to make for me, actually-- Arthur said, his eyes twinkling, --along with Fiddley's help, of course.  
  
Ron was more confused than ever. Me? Make a delivery? Why? And with Ton--erm, Fiddley? Arthur said. It's most urgent. He reached to address the box lid with the quill he'd brought along, hastily writing: Arabella FiggArabella Figg? What would she want with--?This is_ not _what we're delivering, Arthur interrupted quietly as he finished addressing the box: Number sixteen, Privet Drive, Little Whinging.That's right! Ron said excitedly. She lives just down the street from-- The sudden realization hit him the moment his father's hand clapped over his mouth to cover the shout. A muffled, two-syllable word emanated from underneath the hand, sounding most definitely like .  
  
Once Arthur's hand was removed, a huge grin sprang forth from his son's face. That's what you went through all this for?  
  
Arthur nodded, smiling. That's the reason--well, and you still need some new parts later. So don't forget to bring these back--Well, am I--?Only there for the day, Arthur finished. It's the best we could do. Right now, at least for a while, we're using double security to make sure Harry's being better taken care of than last year. Anyone going _near_ Privet Drive has to go through the Ministry Security checks _and_ clearance by us in the Order to avoid any alarms going off somewhere. But all of this protection is beginning to drive Harry mad--he needs some cheering up and it seems you could do with a little yourself. Besides, it may be _all_ we can do for a while, at least until a week or more after his birthday.  
  
Ron was most definitely in a better frame of mind now. Does Harry know?Only if Remus told him, Arthur said, looking up and down the corridor just in case, which means I doubt it. We thought it best if you two met at Arabella's house--she has the Floo and that way there wouldn't be any slips or mistakes made at Harry's aunt's and uncle's. They're very jittery types anyway, don't you think? Ron agreed. Ron briefly recalled his own experiences with the Dursleys and couldn't imagine trying to spend the day at their house, even _if_ Harry was there.  
  
Time is short, Arthur said. We'd best be going.  
  
The two of them set off for the lifts, unable to continue their discussion about their plans due to the great number of people present in the hallways and on the lifts. Soon they arrived at Floo five where Bruta Fiddley was already waiting.  
  
Bring the package, Weasley? she asked Ron brusquely.  
  
Ron grimaced at her, still having trouble coping with the fact that Tonks was under there somewhere. Then let's be off. No time to waste. Tonks turned to glare at a witch and wizard who seemed prepared to step into Floo five, but suddenly changed their mind and hurried away under the heat of Bruta Fiddley's gaze. Security business--regulations, she spat after them, before looking back at Ron. You're in first.  
  
Ron turned quickly to his father. Dad -- see you this afternoon--we'll go take care of-- He lifted the box of parts slightly. And thanks for--this--the chance to go.  
  
Arthur nodded and smiled slightly, then spoke in a whisper. Say hello to Mrs. Figg for  
me if you see her--and any of her _guests_, of course. I hope they're...entertaining.  
  
Grinning at his father's use of code for Say hi to Harry and have fun, Ron stepped into the hearth and spoke loudly into the flue as he read from the package, Number sixteen Privet Drive, Little Whinging!  
  
**_  
  
Acknowledgments: _**_  
The Muggle side of explorer Shipton's story regarding his encounter with the Yeti was adapted from information found on the website: , the owner of which has apparently now published a book including this piece with with other Yeti stories. Shipton's photos of the Yeti footprints are still available on the site. (This author has no official connection with said site, thank you very much. :)  
  
Whether or not she invented the word originally, I have borrowed the description of Arthur Weasley as a Muggle-o-maniac from reader **Ara Kane** because it just fits Arthur so perfectly. Thank you, Ara, for leaving such a wonderful word in your review, sitting there just ripe for the picking! :)  
  
NZ  
  
_


	10. Fun with Harry and Tod

_A/N: Once more I owe a bundle of thanks to my wonderful betas, **Christina Teresa **and **Seakays**, who I'm certain will no longer believe me when I tell them  
it's this odd little story, shouldn't be too long...  
Thank you for your perseverance on my behalf, ladies, you are gems...  
  
Also, to my FanFiction/net readers...okay, so I guess I'm too easy. Either that, or my vacation mood has found its way here and I've decided to keep the story going here for a while longer. Even if there aren't many reviews, the number of hits are such that I can see people are at least **reading **the story, if nothing else, and the teacher within me tells me that' can't be a bad thing. So--many, many thanks to those of you who **have** left reviews and/or those of you who've been loyal and faithful enough to join the story in progress at SugarQuill, too.  
You are the best. NZ  
_**  
****  
  
Chapter 10  
  
Fun with Harry and Tod  
**

Dizzy from the trip and waiting for the ashy dust to clear, Ron stepped from the hearth. A deafening screech and something underfoot made him jump and nearly lose his balance, but he regained it just in time to move out of Tonks/Fiddley's way.  
  
I heard the noise--what'd you kill on your way in? Tonks asked, stepping away from the fireplace and wiping her stern Bruta Fiddley face with a cloth from her pocket.  
  
I don't know what it was--I stepped on something-- The air was clearing enough for Ron to use his sense of smell, if not yet his eyesight. He sniffed the air again.  
  
Well, maybe there's one less now, Tonks said. You'd best check the bottom of your shoe.Ha ha, Ron said dryly, setting his box of parts on a chair by the fireplace so he wouldn't forget them later. He scanned the room anxiously. Where's Mrs. Figg?  
Where's Harry?Arabella's visiting her cousin Rufus for the weekend. Harry and Remus might not be here yet. The sound of an outside door closing came from the next room. That could be them. You go on ahead--I'll just be a minute. Tonks was suddenly very concerned about her appearance, removing her dark, heavy Ministry robe to reveal Muggle jeans and a snug-fitting T-shirt. Her hair was growing quickly long and straight in a shade of dusty purple.  
  
Awww, Harry's not going to get to see Bruta Fiddley?' Ron asked sarcastically.  
  
No, honey, she's all yours--_only_ yours, Tonks said in a sugary voice, laughing when the idea made Ron shudder visibly.  
  
It felt rather odd to Ron to be wandering through the house of someone he knew only vaguely without them being present, but he set off in the direction of the noise they'd heard. He stepped through the door joining the two rooms to see Remus Lupin standing near the front door, next to the back of a very familiar black, wild-haired head.  
  
Couldn't wait till your birthday to get things all stirred up, eh, Harry? Ron asked, standing just inside the doorway.  
  
Harry's head snapped around at the sound of the voice. Ron! How'd you get here? He crossed the room and clapped Ron on the shoulder several times, as Ron did to him.  
  
Hello, Professor Lupin, Ron said as Lupin lifted his hand in greeting.  
  
Harry looked suspiciously at Lupin. Right, Professor. I thought it was a little strange when you went through all that security nonsense just for me to come help you fix Mrs. Figg's plumbing. Lupin said in mock surprise, but the twinkle in his eye gave him away. Surely you're not going to make me do it all myself just because Ron's here?Wait--let me think about it, Harry said, trying to sound pensive, but then answering quickly. Didn't know you were a plumber, Remus, Tonks said, stepping through the door from the other room.  
  
Miss Tonks! Remus said formally, smiling as he turned to face a now-pretty lavender-haired Tonks. Oh, I'm a man of many deep, dark secrets, he teased.  
  
she said playfully. Next time my plumbing's awry, you and your deep dark secrets can bring your plunger to my place and make it all better. The two of them stood looking at each other with an odd expression for a long moment.  
  
Ron and Harry listened silently, then looked at one another with brows raised. There seemed to be much more being said between these two than just the words themselves would indicate.  
  
Harry cleared his throat. When did you say Mrs. Figg would be back?  
  
Lupin broke from the trance first. Not until tomorrow evening. But I'm afraid we only have clearance for Ron to stay until this afternoon--then you have to go back to the Dursleys-- we're getting too close to the birthday situation, you know.Yeah, yeah, Harry said rather disgustedly, though it was obvious to Ron that he knew exactly what Lupin was talking about.  
  
But until then you have the run of the house. Lupin tried to sound encouraging. In fact, I was here earlier this morning and threw out all that nasty porridge and day-old sausage Arabella left for us. Not that I'm asking you to embroider the truth in any way, but I will expect you lot to tell Mrs. Figg how wonderful all of the food she left us was, should it ever come up.So there's--nothing else to eat? Ron asked, noting that his stomach had responded to the mention of food by growling loudly.  
  
There's always plenty of milk and cat food, Harry joked.  
  
Actually, Tonks herself suggested they stock us up with...what is it...frozen pizzas? Remus looked questioningly at all of them. Ron seemed confused, but Harry appeared delighted. Erm, yes--whatever that is-- and there are butterbeers and ice cream in the icebox among other things. So you lads carry on with whatever you like--there's a dusty old chess set in the parlor-- the chess pieces may be a bit tetchy after all these years, but I'm sure you two can set them straight. I saw a wired wireless here somewhere--and I believe Arabella even keeps a television set for appearances' sake, though I hope Harry knows the spell to use it better than I do.  
  
Harry smiled. The spell? I don't know, Professor--it's nearly as difficult to create a Patronus as it is to push that button.  
  
Lupin smiled, too, but looked doubtful. Better stick to what I know then, I suppose. Tonks and I have work to attend to in the reading room, so you'll know where to find us.  
  
Ron and Harry wandered off then to a day of lazy summer fun and relaxation, the likes of which neither of them had enjoyed for a long, long time. They played chess for a bit, raided the kitchen to find lots of things to eat (so said Ron), discussed how weird Professor Lupin and Tonks were acting around each other, and wandered about the overgrown grounds (but were forbidden to leave them, of course).  
  
Through a hole in the vine-covered trellis, they watched Dudley and his friends meander down the hot sidewalk in the direction of Piers' house. (Ron and Harry considered picking up sticks from the garden and pointing them at Dudley's gang so that only Dudley could see, but Harry was worried that, since last summer, his cousin might not take it too well. Ron was in favor of doing it anyway, but they finally decided to pass and tease several of the cats instead.)  
  
Harry baked the frozen pizzas for lunch and they all had their fill. Ron determined pizza to be his new favorite food after eating a whole pie by himself and insisted that Harry had to tell Dobby how to prepare them to be served at Hogwarts. The two boys tried to outdo one another with tales of how desperately boring their summers had been so far, finally coming to the conclusion that Harry had had it worse up to the point where Ron had been grounded and lost the use of his broomstick indefinitely. Hence it came to a draw.  
  
The tale of the broomstick held hostage then prompted a discussion about the situation with Hermione.  
  
I'm just thinking she could get herself into a lot of trouble right quickly is all, Ron said, his voice rising. And then what? We don't know where she is, how long it would take help to get there...She might not have help at all if things get too out of hand--and if she only has those thick-headed Ministry blokes around--you already know some of them are right evil --  
  
Ron watched Harry's face fall and cursed himself. _Bloody hell, Weasley! Nice work! Feel free to charge right in there like a stampeding Graphorn!  
  
_What I mean to say is-- Ron tried desperately to think of another topic--fast. Nothing would come--nothing. It was all he could do to absorb into his heart the pain he saw etched on his best friend's face.  
  
Ron had had no intention of bringing up bad memories and had worked hard several times during the day to tiptoe around the worst subjects. So far he'd considered that part of things a complete success. If Harry'd been upset or depressed at some point, he'd worked hard not to let it show. It had been just the two of them, best friends for five long years now, discussing the sorts of things that all sixteen-year-old boy wizards discuss. But now Ron had blundered into this like a Bludger into an unsuspecting spectator. Inevitably, as it had with everything over the past year or so, the Darkness had seeped in.  
  
The silence held them for several minutes.  
  
Sorry, mate, Ron said quietly. _Oh, Hermione, why weren't you here to stop me from being such a stupid git?  
  
_Me too, Harry sighed, looking down at his hands clasped in his lap.  
  
I didn't mean to--I know. It's not your fault, Harry said sincerely. His -- leaving -- is always standing there big as a ruddy Norwegian Ridgeback any time I talk to someone from the wizarding world. And it's not going to change now, is it?Is it--getting easier--at all? Ron said haltingly.  
  
Harry paused a moment in thought. Hurts a bit less on the outside, I think--either that, or I'm numb to it now. But some of it, the deeper part--it never lets up...never. When Sirius...came...it sort of felt like I'd finally found my parents--just a little-- and then...they went away with him. I lost Sirius once-- and I lost them twice.  
  
Harry's words chilled Ron. No matter how often he disagreed with his parents (and yes, in all honesty had once in a while wished they weren't around for him to have to put up with), he had never really,_ really _wanted to think about what life would be like without them. And even without parents, he had the rest of his family. Harry had...no one...of his own. No matter how welcome he felt with the Weasleys or how blood-tied he was to his Aunt Petunia, no one was truly Harry's--and it could never be exactly the same.  
  
Is there -- anything I can do? Ron asked helplessly.  
  
Harry grunted somewhat bitterly. Reckon it's something I've got to learn to go on with--just like when my scar hurts. Life goes on, you know. Ask Dumbledore.I know. Ron subconsciously pulled his shirtsleeves down to cover his scars, then just as quickly hoped Harry hadn't noticed.  
  
I suppose if I've got to learn to carry on with this, you and Hermione'll have to be the ones to put up with me most, Harry said. You can't know all there is, but you know much more than anyone else. And I reckon you might let me slide if I bollux things up once in a while, won't you?Hell, Harry, Ron started, we'll likely be right there bolluxing them up with you.  
  
Harry had to smile a bit at Ron's enthusiasm about that. Thanks. I suppose I always knew that, but it's good to hear it, too. He gestured with his forefinger in the direction of Ron's arms. And I'm not the only one with scars from that night...  
  
_Damn! He did notice!  
  
_...They healing all right? Harry asked.  
  
Ron shrugged. All right, I reckon. Madam Pomfrey says she can do more when we go back in the fall. They hurt sometimes and they're bloody ugly... Somehow telling Harry about how _he_ was healing seemed utterly stupid and petty. Ron felt something welling up inside of him; talking about the scars had made them ache and his head was beginning to hurt as well. He hadn't planned to say it, but he heard his own voice burst out with, Harry--I shoulda helped you that night! I don't know what the Death Eaters hit me with, but Ginny told me about it all and--bloody hell, Harry! If you hadn't stayed to help me with the stupid brain and if I could have helped you fight off the Death Eaters instead of staggering around like a blithering idiot, maybe things would have been different--you would have had me _and_ Neville to help, you would have had more time--What? Ron-- Harry interrupted, surprised by the verbal barrage,   
  
Ron didn't--he hadn't even stopped to breathe. --If we hadn't made a wrong turn then maybe you wouldn't have had to wait for us--maybe we all would have been gone before we had to start dodging in the doors and such to stay away from them-- Harry said loudly, but not in anger.   
  
Harry's volume startled Ron out of his ranting and he fell silent. The surge was over, but his arms and head were still pulsing with the pain. His voice was muted now. I shoulda been there, Harry--for you and Hermione and everyone...I shoulda been there.You _were_ there, you git, Harry said. You climbed on a Thestral you couldn't even see and flew there to helpSirius_ and me_, remember? You did everything you could--we all did. The Death Eaters could have hit _me_ with that curse you took--or all of us--it could have been a lot worse, it could have turned out a lot better. But it turned out like it did and we just --go on. We have to, Ron.  
  
Ron heaved a great sigh, but still looked doubtful as he gazed down into his lap.  
  
After a moment, a twinkle returned to Harry's eye before he spoke. I was gonna ask if getting tangled up with that brain made you any smarter.  
  
Ron looked up from his lap into his friend's face and noticed Harry wrestling with a little smile around his lips.  
  
Reckon you just told me all I need to know, Harry said.  
  
Ron frowned at first and tried to keep looking distressed, but he couldn't resist his friend's playfulness. Harry was actually snapping out of his sadness fairly quickly, or else he was a damned good actor. Shut it, Harry. Go--find me more pizza or something.You ate it all for lunch! Harry exclaimed. Hope you can squeeze into that hearth when it's time to leave.  
  
Ron nodded slowly at Harry without smiling, then snapped around to grab a pillow from the sofa and fire it at Harry. Harry laughed as it grazed the top of his head when he ducked and the pillow flew through the doorway into the next room just as Tonks appeared there. Ricocheting from Tonks, the pillow dropped onto a cat who'd been purring and trying to wrap around her legs as she walked; the cat screeched and fled, startling and nearly upending Tonks in the process.  
  
Tonks glared at the two boys. All right, who threw that?  
  
Ron pointed innocently at Harry the instant Harry pointed at him.  
  
Tonks nodded knowingly. Oh, you two are good. I should smack both of you, just for good measure. But you'd best leave some of Arabella's cats intact, or she'll have both your heads. Well, I actually came to tell you something-- before I was so rudely interrupted. Ron, we've got five minutes--so do whatever else you need to do and then we all need to be off.  
  
The two boys nodded their understanding before Tonks turned away out of sight, but then the sadness set in.  
  
That went way too fast, Harry said. Stupid Birthday Rule. Ron said, what is it with that, anyway?It's just this thing Dumbledore told me about, Harry explained. Something to do with some ancient blood magic--I don't know. It's rubbish--I have to be here a certain number of days on either side of my birthday, and then they're not sure that's going to do anything anyway. All I know is that now I finally have people I want to spend my birthday with, I'm stuck spending it here pretty much alone.  
  
Ron wasn't sure he had anything very encouraging to say. Oh. Sorry for that. _Wait a minute! _Be right back! he told Harry.  
  
Ron hurried into the kitchen where he'd left the box he'd delivered'. He popped open the Spell-o-Tape by yanking the flaps apart and began rummaging around in the box, looking for something there were two of... he said to himself after holding up and examining two identical motorbike parts and throwing one back into the box.  
  
Striding back to Harry, Ron held the part in his hand behind his back. Maybe this will help. Here you are-- an early birthday present. Ron pulled out the part with a flourish and held it up for Harry.  
  
Harry's eyes had filled with expectation at Ron's excitement, but on sight of the part, he looked totally baffled. Oh, and it's a...  
  
Ron laughed. He remembered the time he'd given him the Sneakoscope in third year and got much the same reaction.  
  
Harry took the part from Ron's hand and turned it round and over in his own, apparently trying to find anything about it he might recognize. It's a... After a minute or two, Harry looked up at Ron's grinning face in exasperation. Don't just stand there, Weasley, tell me what it is!  
  
Ron had expected this. It's...a puzzle piece. And once I get all the other pieces to you, it'll help to make you fly.  
  
Harry furrowed his brow. A puzzle piece? Fly? A sudden look of realization hit him before he gasped. It goes on a broomstick!  
  
Ron's eyes twinkled as he shrugged. The other pieces of the puzzle are coming--I'm just not sure when--may be a bit after your real birthday. But I wanted you to have one of the important pieces.  
  
Harry looked pleased, but a bit confused. See how my birthdays are? Then I have friends like this who want to make me mental wondering about the things they give me...  
  
Ron shrugged again. Sorry, mate, don't want to spoil the surprise, you know. You'll figure it out.  
  
Harry was still thinking out loud and rotating the part before him, muttering puzzle piece...how would it fit?...fly...And all on your own, too, Ron said teasingly. You don't even have Hermione around to go look it up for you.Thanks a ruddy lot, Harry said, but he was smiling. Speaking of Hermione, you let me know if you think of a way to get her a message--and I'll try to think of something myself. Harry looked as if something had just occurred to him. But you are rather more free' to check into things than I am. She said it's a Ministry internship, right? Ron answered, uncertain where Harry was going with this.  
  
And the Ministry should have a record of where she went _somewhere_, in somebody's files, Harry said slyly.  
  
  
  
Harry looked at Ron as if he should have caught on by now. We've already broken in once, Harry whispered. How often do you plan on going to work with your dad?  
  
Now it was becoming clear. Ohhh--good idea. But the security's really tight there right now--not sure what I can get away with. You should have seen what we went through just to get me here for one day.You know I'd help you if I could-- Tonks asked, as she and Remus stepped through the doorway.  
  
Harry and Ron looked at one another.  
  
Have a great birthday, Harry, Ron said, trying to sound more cheerful then he felt and patting Harry heavily on the shoulder. We'll celebrate more when we see each other next. Harry said. This birthday's been good so far. Thanks for the present--even if it's going to drive me mad. Hmmm...Tonks, Professor Lupin, any idea what this is?  
  
Harry held up the part for the two of them to see. Ron stepped behind Harry as soon as he could and caught their eyes, shaking his head furiously. He was fairly sure Remus might know what it came from and why it was there, but Tonks hadn't been clued in.  
  
Remus simply shrugged and shook his head.  
  
Tonks took the part and turned it over in her hands, her forehead creased in thought. Hmmm...it looks like... She glanced up at Harry, then at Ron. You know, I think it comes from a... She glanced once more at Ron, who looked as if his head was about to leave his shoulders, then she looked as if she pushed an amused expression from her face.. Nah, guess not. Sorry, Harry, I've no idea. Handing the part back to him, Tonks smirked at Ron the instant Harry wasn't looking.  
  
Tonks looked at Remus and Harry. You two go first--then I'll put the Security Spells back on the house.Are you sure? Remus asked. I don't mind--I'm sure, Tonks said strongly, giving a nervous sideways glance through the doorway toward the fireplace in the next room.  
  
Ron watched Tonks' nervous look with interest. _She has to morph into Bruta Fiddley before we go back-- _he thought-- _in front of Remus. Payback's a bitch! _Oh, I think my dad's expecting me back really soon, Ron started, a twinkle in his eye, we have a few things to take care of in London before it gets too late.  
  
Harry looked a bit surprised. You're going into London with your dad? Ron said, quickly thinking of a reason. Need something called a hinghee for the screen door. You know, the thing that makes it move back and forth? It broke. said Harry, looking as if he thought that would be an interesting trip to observe.  
  
Well then, by all means, tell Arthur hello--you two go on, Remus said, turning toward the next room.  
  
Tonks said loudly and emphatically, so much so that Harry and Remus both jumped. Ron had been simply watching her, smirking; she caught that. I mean--no--we came in first, we should go out last--the spell works better that way. We'll go _last!_  
  
Remus looked surprised at the outburst, but was not the type to disagree if it seemed so important to her. All right--we'll go. Good to see you, Ron--see you at the next Order meeting, Nymphadora--erm, Tonks.  
  
Tonks appeared to cringe at the sound of her given name, but she didn't seem anxious to make a bigger scene than she already had.  
  
Everyone else said their goodbyes to one another and Ron watched sadly as Harry walked out the front door and closed it behind him.  
  
Me first? Ron asked teasingly, as he watched Tonks adjust her Ministry robe and become Bruta Fiddley.  
  
Yeah, you first, Tonks said. And ha ha--very funny. So now we're even--now that he thinks I'm a blubbering fool. Ron said innocently. I'm sure he doesn't mind.No, not Harry--and_ I _mind! Tonks said, grumbling something else under her breath. Take your box and get in--I'll throw the powder. Just say Ministry Steeplechase, that's the password to get in this week. Though I should have given you the wrong one just to leave you out there twisting in the wind somewhere.  
  
Ron did as he was told and uttered the password. Just as he felt everything start to whirl around him, he heard Bruta Fiddley's voice say from in front of him, Why in blazes would you give Harry a motorbike part, anyway?  
  
Then it all became a blur.

Hermione watched as Otto_ (Ulav?_ Hermione wondered) and another man walked Starr between them through the tall doors into the back hallway of the lab. She noticed that Starr seemed to walk with them willingly, but she held her long arms stiff and a bit close in front of her, as if she didn't want to touch the men. Seeming to know where they were leading her, she stalked ahead and almost dove into the training room where Hermione and Dr. Null were headed.  
  
Hermione wondered if this was odd Yeti behavior or if it was just another example of Starr's shyness, as Dr. Null kept insisting. It was difficult from knowing only Starr to believe that this entire study was focused on dealing with aggressive behavior in the creatures, when they seemed like such intelligent, charming, and docile beings.

The past day and a half had been rather disappointing, actually, in terms of what Hermione had expected. Anxious to get started actually working with the Yeti, Hermione had been faced with a lot of waiting, cleaning, copying, and training.  
  
The remainder of the day she had met Dr. Voyde was spent familiarizing herself with the lab and its procedures--mostly Ministry rules and regulations along with some safety procedures. Dr. Null had disappeared for much of the afternoon with some urgent issue in the outdoor habitat, so Hermione decided to settle down with a book from his desk. Late in the day Dr. Null returned for a few minutes, apologized to Hermione, and grabbed a wad of cloth from under his desk that un-crumpled into a jacket. He then told her he had to return to the habitat and that they wouldn't be able to start anything else, so she was free to choose any books she wished to take for the evening and go to dinner.  
  
After her meal alone in the commons_ (where **was **everyone else?)_and after talking to Tulip a bit, Hermione took her stack of books and left the commons to retire to her cabin. Staring into the lovely orange summer sunset as she walked, she nearly tripped over Tod, who ran directly in front of her chasing what looked like another one of Dr. Null's crumpled paper airplane notes. Smiling at his determination to catch the thing, she thought it odd that the note actually seemed to be trying to avoid Tod, rather than delivering itself. With nothing else urgent to distract her, she let her gaze follow the house-elf as he zigzagged across the quad to the far side of the camp.  
  
But she wasn't expecting what she saw next. Standing near the large housing building, where she'd learned Voyde's men stayed, were Otto and Ulav. One of them had his wand pointed and quite obviously was controlling the paper airplane note such that Tod couldn't possibly catch it. Both men were laughing uproariously as Tod, who looked as if he was breathing hard either in fatigue or anger, jumped for the note repeatedly, missing by only an inch or two each and every time.  
  
Hermione wasn't familiar enough with the atmosphere of the camp or the people who worked there to be able to judge for sure if the men were teasing Tod all in fun, or if they were taunting him rather cruelly. It was often difficult to tell from the reactions of house-elves, she thought, because they were always so focused on completing the task before them and felt no sense of indignity.  
  
Otto and Ulav must have felt her eyes on them even from that distance because they glanced up at her and immediately ceased laughing, just as quickly looking away. The man with his wand out flicked the tip down quickly to send the note into Tod's hand, then the two men turned and left, disappearing around the corner of the building. Tod, apparently thankful to finally get his message, wandered off toward the lab reading the unfolded note.  
  
Hermione realized her brow had been furrowed in confusion as she watched the scene. She considered speaking to Dr. Null about it, but then decided she didn't want to make trouble so soon in case it was for the most part innocent play. Perhaps it was normal--Tod seemed mildly distressed about it while it was happening, but hardly so once it was over. Yet she vowed to keep her eyes open in any case...  
  
Entering her cabin, Hermione straightened up a bit and set out her clothes for the morning. She finally settled in early for bed and read herself to sleep, her last thought a hope that she'd have a better chance to work with the Yeti the following day.  
  
But it was not to be. The next morning was spent unearthing' her work station from all of the books and objects upon it. Dr. Null indicated that he would have some report preparation for her to do that afternoon--and that, since he'd put off completing the reports until they were almost due_ (what a surprise **that **is, she thought)_, they would need to be finalized quickly.  
  
As soon as the reports were finished, Hermione was introduced to another one of Voyde's men, a large (weren't they all?) older man with a deep scar cutting across one ear and down his jaw line. Hank, as he was introduced, was to train Hermione how to handle all of the Trapperton mail and supply shipments from the Ministry, which was to be one of her daily duties as an intern. His very few words and grunts as he alternately shoved clipboards and different blank parchment forms at her only showed her that she'd likely be, for all practical purposes, self-taught.  
  
But now it was a new day. The dull basics were out of the way and her chance at doing some real research had come. Hermione watched, entranced, as Dr. Null worked effortlessly with Starr, using some type of sign language to talk' with her as he prepared their work for the day.  
  
Dr. Null, Starr, and Hermione were seated in one of the training rooms that were in the back of the building behind the offices. It was well-known that the Yeti were of a high order of intelligence: they were able to concentrate, solve problems, and communicate, but no formal intelligence testing had ever been done. One of the goals of Null's study was to determine an approximate average intelligence level of a Yeti in comparison to a human or a wizard.  
  
The Yeti had their own form of internal language they spoke' among themselves, which was being studied while they were in their outdoor habitat. But from here, they were learning to communicate thoughts, ideas, and feelings using pictures and cues they had learned from Dr. Null and his staff so that their communications could be more effectively recorded.  
  
Dr. Null first set out stacks of cards from three different sections of picture cards on the wall. From one stack he began to lay magical photos side-by-side in a row close to him and Hermione; the photos were of a number of different Yeti that Hermione had never seen before. Starr sat quietly, alternately looking at the cards and staring at Null and Hermione.  
  
How many Yeti are living here now? Hermione asked, surprised that there were so many cards.  
  
Right now there are fourteen, Dr. Null answered, aligning the cards, which is really too many. The habitat was designed to have space enough for ten, as they would be living in the wild-- eleven at the most. The problem is the Ministry keeps getting requests to take in more because of the aggression problems. Thadde--er, the Department-- doesn't really understand. If someone offers to make a donation to the project, but insists that we bring in another Yeti or two to save' them, the Department accepts and simply tells us to make room. What's worrisome is that crowding the Yeti can create even worse problems with their behavior than the creatures come in with. So far we've been lucky, but the other day--well--let's say I just hope our luck holds. Dr. Null had stopped himself and appeared to be lost in thought, but Hermione was so riveted by his revelation that she tried to bring him back.  
  
That day you had to leave for so long? Hermione asked. What happened?  
  
Suddenly, Starr immediately let out a very loud noise that was somewhere between a drawn-out honk and a very low bleat. Hermione jumped at the sound as the Yeti smacked her hand on the table, slapping at the card Null had just laid down.  
  
The zoolowizard, nonplussed, smiled up at the Yeti. That's you, isn't it? There's Starr. Sure enough, stealing shy looks into the camera from the face of the card and then looking away was Starr, her deep purple eyes glinting in the sunlight.  
  
Hermione was just catching her breath. I didn't know Yeti made any kind of noise.  
  
Null nodded. Oh, yes. Almost any creature can make some kind of noise if they're afraid or excited enough. The Yeti don't do it often, but when they do, their volume makes up for all that time they're quiet.Here, Starr, show Hermione your name, Dr. Null said. He flipped through the stack of nature picture cards and removed some. Pushing the remaining cards closer to Starr so that there was space below the Yeti photos, he left them in no particular order and rather askew.  
  
Once a Yeti is used to their new habitat, usually several days after their arrival here, each picks their own name from the pictures on the cards, Dr. Null explained. These should all be things they've seen before in their native homes. Starr was one of the first two Yeti to arrive here, so she's had a chance to learn all of their wizard names' and frankly, Starr's quite a good student. Some of the newer arrivals only know their own name, if that, but we'll see how well she can match them up to introduce you.  
  
Starr seemed to know what her task was to be. She happily picked up the card with the picture of a star on it and placed it directly below her own Yeti picture. Once the two cards touched, the name appeared under her picture and she pointed excitedly at the word with one huge finger. Hermione didn't know if Yeti had the ability to smile, but she guessed that if Starr could have been smiling, she would have.  
  
Is there a reason for the double Hermione asked.  
  
Actually, there is, Null said. The Yeti choose their own names, but to make certain there's no confusion when we're writing out our reports, we changed the spelling of the names by a letter or two.  
  
Starr now had the picture of a tall, strong tree in her hand and laid it just below the picture of a large, muscular Yeti with steel-gray fur, obviously a male and mature like Starr. Below his picture appeared the word . Eventually, Starr had the names of all the other Yeti at Trapperton lined up: Skye, Hille, Oshun, Dove, Spyder, Flaime, Leif, Rivver, Byrde, Wolfe, Foxer, and Foxly.  
  
Foxer and Foxly? Hermione asked Dr. Null.  
  
Male and female twins, Dr. Null answered. Both wanted the fox for their names--when neither would give in and they looked seriously ready to hurt one another, we came up with that compromise.The Yeti are sounding more human all the time, Hermione said.  
  
You'll get used to these names and faces quickly enough, Null explained, but just to start--Hille, Dove, and Byrde are the females, Leif is an adolescent male, and the twins are young--just kids, you might say--Hille's youngsters.  
  
Starr was gesturing wildly at Dr. Null, pointing to him and then the cards on the table. Ah, just a moment. I forgot. He reached into a wired section in back of him and withdrew another set of cards, handing them to Starr. The Yeti laid them out on the table to reveal cards with photos of Doctors Null and Voyde, each one of Voyde's men, then Tulip and Tod; when she was done she checked them all over again. Immediately, she looked up and pointed to Hermione, then looked at Dr. Null questioningly.  
  
Dr. Null smiled. You're absolutely right, Starr. We don't have a photo of Hermione yet. Thank you for reminding me.  
  
Hermione smiled and rolled her eyes. I might need to borrow the photos of Voyde's handlers myself. I haven't met them all yet, and I certainly don't know their names. I don't even know that I've seen them all.As I mentioned, most of them work more often in the outdoor habitat than in here, and primarily at night, when the Yeti are the most active, Dr. Null explained. Some of them sleep most of the day and help Dr. Voyde perform her research at night.Dr. Voyde's research is different from yours? Hermione asked, trying to get it all straight in her mind.  
  
Oh, yes. Didn't I mention? Dr. Voyde is charged with the physical well-being of the Yeti. She's to determine if their overall physical characteristics have changed from records made earlier this century to see if perhaps there could be any reason for their behavior changes. Also, there are a few types of tests being done on their interactions under natural conditions.And your project is for intelligence and psychological testing? Hermione asked.  
  
And some testing on their interactions under laboratory conditions, Null responded. Once we've determined intelligence levels and psychological stability, we'll be able to take our findings to the Ministry to work out just what their rights are as a magical species. And to me, that's very important--especially when some wizards seem to think we have the right to do what we wish with them simply because they've chosen not to become as socialized as we have. These creatures have feelings and emotions--and a social order--there are some moral issues to their captivity as well. We need to do what we can to help them resolve their own problems and get them back into the wild into their natural habitats where they belong.  
  
Hermione smiled-- this seemed to be the right place for her after all.  
  
We try to bring the Yeti in at least weekly to report their experiences--their diary', we call it, Null explained. Once we've recorded their reports, then we record their feelings about what's happened and any feelings they have about any of the other Yeti in the habitat. I'll be showing you how to help them use the cards to express themselves and how we like to record everything to compile later in the reports.  
  
Hermione watched Starr for a few minutes as she pulled and pushed cards from different stacks to form her diary' entry for the day--Starr was obviously very experienced in what she was doing, forming easy-to-comprehend sentences with pictures from the cards.  
  
Very good at this, isn't she? Dr. Null asked. She'll definitely be the first one turned over to you permanently while you're here--she could all but teach you how to do this, or anyone else for that matter. Easy to see there's a good amount of intelligence there,  
isn't it?  
  
Hermione still sat watching in awe, amazed at all _she'd_ already learned so soon, too--and at how much more there apparently was to absorb.  
  
_Lots_ of intelligence, she agreed.

Dad, it was so great to see Harry! Ron whispered excitedly as he entered his father's office in the Ministry and set his parts box back on the desk where it had been earlier that morning.  
  
That's wonderful-- Arthur said sincerely, looking up from his work, --for both of you--because I'm sure he feels the same. Precisely the point of getting you two together, that was. He looked around his desk for a moment. You'll have to tell me more later, but for right now, there are two or three more things to take care of--and then we can be off.  
  
Ron leaned down to pick up something from the floor. I reckon-- this-- doesn't belong down there. He held up a large envelope in front of him that looked ready to be sent by owl.  
  
Arthur said loudly, grimacing. That was supposed to go out today! And, of course, Perkins has left-- he growled. Ron-- you know where all of the lifts are, right? Do you remember seeing that one in the right-hand corner with the purple star on the door?  
  
Ron frowned in thought. Yeah, I think so.That lift takes you directly to shipping, though it's a bit of a jaunt, Arthur explained. Do you think you could manage to get it to the shipping supervisor, have him record it and send it off? Ron said, shrugging. Still got your badge, have you? Arthur asked, looking at Ron's chest where he'd pinned it. Just making sure--can't be too careful after what we went through earlier. Ron agreed.  
  
Take that down and come on back as soon as it's off--by then I should be ready to leave. Ron said, then turned to start down the hall.  
  
Finding his way to the correct lift was easy, but he was surprised at how long he traveled downward before the doors opened. He stepped off the lift into a virtual roomful of boxes, trunks, and packaged items with only narrow walking aisles inbetween them. It was overall quite dark, but he spotted a brighter light coming from somewhere at the end of the room. Carefully negotiating the walkway so as not to knock anything down, Ron finally reached a counter with a desk behind it--that was where the brighter light had been coming from. But there was no one to be seen--anywhere.  
  
Ron waited in front of the counter for some time, knowing that he dare not simply leave the envelope if it was something urgent. Obviously, from the looks of things, there seemed to be a great backlog of unshipped parcels.  
  
he called. Anyone here?  
  
There was no response--no noise of any kind.  
  
Parcel to be owled! he yelled back in the direction of the lift._   
  
_Scanning the entire room for any clue that someone was on their way, or even a note someone might have left saying when they'd be back, he found nothing._  
  
Can't wait around all day for this bloke,_ Ron thought. He glanced around once more, then circled the counter to the desk behind it, thinking he could perhaps leave a note with the envelope to indicate it was urgent that it be sent today. Surely there had to be a bit of parchment and a quill he could write with...  
  
But long before his eyes fell upon any writing implements, they fell upon something he found much more enticing. Lying open in the middle of the desk, atop piles of notes, odd bits of parchment, and shipping bills was a magazine--and not just any magazine--it was a_ motorbike_ magazine!  
  
Ron didn't seem to notice he'd moved behind the desk now, staring in slack-jawed awe at a glossy two-page spread for a beautiful new motorbike as if the machine was really sitting before his eyes. So lost in his own thoughts was Ron that he didn't hear the heavy footfalls coming toward him from between the stacks of parcels. He didn't see the wide-shouldered, long-haired man approaching with a scowl on his face for the person who seemed to be fooling with his desk.  
  
All Ron heard was the booming voice before he dropped the envelope in surprise and knocked a fluttering stack of parchment from the desktop to the floor.  
  
You there! Boy! _What do you think you're doing?!  
_


	11. Primate Punks and Payback Parts

_A/N:Thank you again to the finest crew of beta-readers there is: **Christina Teresa, Seakays, **and **sunshyndaisies**. You are wonderful beyond words, ladies--thank you for everything.  
Readers--For the life of me, section breaks will NOT appear in my posted text no matter what I do. So please forgive the lack of them--another part of the problem I'm having with formatting  
and posting here.  
_****

Chapter 11

  
**Primate Punks and Payback Parts**

Ron stared at the imposing figure striding purposefully toward him, even though it was difficult to focus in the dim light.

Whaddya need? the man demanded loudly. Too much in a hurry to wait five minutes?

Ron wasn't sure which question to answer first. Er...no, no sir, I waited...a bit. I just didn't see anyone. And I have this parcel-- He looked down at his hands, that he was somewhat surprised to find were empty. I had it right-- Looking beyond his hands, Ron realized he'd dropped the envelope at some point and that it had taken a great stack of papers from the desktop to the floor right along with it. Bloody _hell! _ I'm-- sorry! Didn't mean to-- Reaching down repeatedly to scoop up clumps of parchment bits and bills from the tops of his trainers and shoving them onto the desktop, he finally got down on his hands and knees to make sure he got the last one or two that had landed farther under the desk than the others.

Wouldn't have been no accident if you were on the right side of the counter, now would there? The man was now standing at the side of his desk glaring at Ron.

Ron could feel his ears going hot. No, suppose not...I didn't--look, I'm really sorry...What's your name, boy? the man asked, wiping his brow.

Climbing up from the floor, Ron finally had a moment to take a look at the man before him. The Ministry worker sported a rather ragged goatee, and the one large gold hoop  
earring on his right ear was easy to spot, for although his hair was long, it had been pulled haphazardly into a ponytail. He wore his Ministry robes open in the front, looking as though they could barely cover his beefy shoulders. But Ron was most surprised by the man's attire under the robes: he wore Muggle clothes. Although the man didn't seem exactly fat, there was great size about him and his bright, leafy-patterned shirt looked as if it could have made a pup tent for two. His obviously-new, shocking-white high top trainers contrasted with his deep-toned skin, which Ron might never have noticed had the man not been wearing--shorts.

_Since when are people allowed to wear shorts to work at the Ministry?_ he thought.

No name then? the man boomed. What department you from?

Ron jumped to attention again, realizing he must have been staring a bit too intently for a bit too long.

Ron--Ron Weasley, he finally said. No department, just-- Ron felt the air leave him as the man grabbed a fistful of his shirt, yanking it and lifting Ron's heels forcefully off the ground.

The man had obviously seen the badge pinned to Ron's chest--and apparently wanted to see it a bit closer. His own face no more than six inches from the moon-shaped face of the man, Ron tried desperately not to notice that he badly needed to sneeze--the man's after-shave was nearly overwhelming. He scrunched his nose and prayed.

Ronald Weasley. Employee Guest, the man read, releasing Ron back flat on his feet again. Oh--just visiting, eh?

Ron purposefully took a deep breath and released it to relax a bit. Yeah--with my dad--Arthur Weasley, Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. He edged toward the side of the desk away from the man--maybe if he was farther from the scene of the crime the worker wouldn't keep being reminded how upset he was...

Think I know who he is. You coming back tomorrow? the man demanded.

Er, no..not that I know of, Ron said, wondering why the bloke cared.

S almost time to go home--no overtime allowed, y'know, the man said. Who's going to help me put this mess in order? The man waved his hand over the desk in exasperation.

Ron looked at the desk and was forced to admit that it _was_ a total disaster. If there had been any sense of order to it before, there certainly wasn't now--the motorbike magazine was barely visible under the mountain of documents and scraps on top of it. He shrugged and started to shake his head. Look around yourself. The man flopped into a very large chair. Ron realized he must have pushed it against the back wall without noticing. Does it look like I have time to straighten this out_ and_ get all of these things outta here?

Ron glanced worriedly at the mounds of parcels. Er...no, probably not, he said sheepishly.

The Ministry worker somehow located and pulled a quill out from under the sheaves of parchment. Ah, here we are--Badge Request Form. Anything you have scheduled for tomorrow that can't be changed?

Confused on the spur of the moment and after all of his Floo travels earlier, Ron tried to think what day it was. I--I'm not sure--I--Good. Be here at eight. Let me get that name down. The man squinted up at the badge on Ron's chest.

Ron automatically started to lean forward so it would be easier to read, then a horrible thought hit him. He slapped one hand over the badge._ Damn! Security! It took a good part of the Order to get you in here today, Weasley--how are you going to get in tomorrow without being arrested? _ Erm, I can't.You can't? the man growled, scowling.

No--I mean, I'd like to help you, I really would--I know the mess is my fault, but--my name-- Ron knew he had to give some explanation, but the truth certainly wouldn't do and nothing else he could think of quickly sounded quite right either...

Your name? What's wrong with your name? the man asked, now eyeing Ron suspiciously.

Ron said. But it's--It's _what?_

Ron sighed. He still had clearance for today--that should keep him out of trouble for now-- and if he told the truth maybe the man would understand why he couldn't come in tomorrow... I'm--my name's on the--high-risk Security list. Wincing, he took a chance on watching the man's reaction.

The worker's dark eyes stared into Ron's face. The high-risk Security list? _ You? _The man's disbelief was evident in the tone of his voice.

Ron nodded silently. But as he kept watching, the man's scowl began to morph into a look of wonder and almost awe. Then the most amazing thing happened-- a slow upturn at the corners of his mouth became an enormous grin.

You really? the man asked. Now that's _one_ story you'll be telling me tomorrow. Let's see what we can do to that name.

Swallowing at the oddness of this entire situation, Ron reached up with one hand and tilted the face of his badge downward so that the man could see it more clearly. The worker scribbled something on the form, then grabbed another bit of parchment that had been written on, read it, turned it over, and scribbled several more words on it. He shoved the last bit of parchment at Ron.

Here you go--your new name, the man said. This is the one'll get cleared by security--the badge'll be ready and waiting for you. Close enough it could just be spelled wrong, eh? But I'll take care of it--I _know_ someone. The man whispered the last few words to him as if in confidence, but Ron wasn't sure whether to be relieved or worried about it. This envelope have to go out today?

Ron tucked the bit of parchment into his back pocket. He was having trouble keeping up with all of the sudden changes of direction in this conversation. Now the man acted as if nothing had ever happened. Uh... yeah--please.Leo, it is, the man said jovially, stamping something on the envelope and throwing off some of the papers on the desk to get to a large black book and open it.

Beg your pardon? Ron asked.

Leo--Leo Salomon's the name, the man said, holding out one beefy hand for Ron to shake.

Er, nice to meet you, Mr. Salomon, Ron said hesitantly.

Leo--please. Mr. Salomon's some old man that still lives in Samoa--bless your heart, Dad, he said toward the ceiling. See you at eight sharp, Ronald.

As confused as he was, Ron still reacted to the name. Not that he disliked it; it was just that there were really only three people who ever called him Ronald', for the two most important it was always when they were angry with him, and he _hated_ hearing it from either of them.

he corrected, a bit too emphatically. ...If that's all right with you.

Leo stood and appeared ready to walk off to the adjacent Owl Room with the envelope Ron had brought down. Ron it is, then, Leo said. Be ready to work --tomorrow.

Ron nodded and turned to wind his way through the tight aisles of parcels again to enter the lift._ This backup had to take weeks to build to this point--certainly Leo couldn't think..._

Whether it was the lift's movement that made him light-headed or the whirlwind of strange things that had happened to him today, he wasn't sure. He was certain, though, that his head hurt and he'd be glad to get back to his father's office. Maybe they could go look for motorbike parts some other day-- he was starting to feel just a little sick...

Ron shoved his hand into his back pocket, waiting for the lift to reach its destination. A crunch in his hand reminded him he hadn't looked at what Leo Salomon had written on the parchment scrap. Pulling it from his pocket, he uncrumpled it and suddenly found his head hurting even worse.

He read the name aloud in disbelief. Renald Wissle?

Her first day of research with the Yeti had gone very well indeed. Later that evening, Hermione sat down to write her parents about all of the fascinating things she'd learned and done that day with Dr. Null and his charges. As she began, she thought back to the night before and remembered how thrilled she'd been when she finally received the first owl from home. She'd thought it was odd that it had taken almost forty-eight hours for the owl to arrive with her parents' response, but perhaps they had been delayed in writing back to her. Apparently, all had gone fine with the Memory Charm, the worst of it being that Mr. and Mrs. Granger couldn't recall which street would return them to the expressway. Finally relieved to be able to quell that nagging thought in the back of her mind that something had gone horribly wrong, Hermione felt her faith in the Ministry to be somewhat restored.

But later on, while trying to read herself to sleep once again, her loneliness began to wear on her. Hermione had sent off the Ministry owl to her parents no more than an hour beforehand when she made a decision.

Even though Thaddeus Sharpe had acted as if thoughts of writing to her peers' were somewhat silly, she could tell at this point that there probably wasn't going to be anyone else in the camp to talk with about, well,_ things. _Harry and Ron had become such an important part of her life for a number of reasons--they'd been through so much together. Aching to tell them where she was and what she'd been doing, Hermione decided to write them the next day, no matter _what_ anyone else thought and just hoped there would be no official Ministry repercussions. After all, she was allowed to send one owl a day--and she hadn't sent any yesterday due to her parents' delay. Her one owl on the off days could be sent with letters to Harry and Ron; if her parents' owl came earlier at some point, she was sure they wouldn't mind and she'd explain what she'd decided to do in her next letter.

Satisfied with her own solution and a bit excited to think she could be back in touch with her best friends again, Hermione had far less trouble falling asleep that night.

Leo Salomon said as he strolled into the Shipping Department carrying what looked like a small cauldron of coffee in one hand. No problems getting in here, eh, _Renald? _he teased.

Ron had been waiting in _front_ of the shipping counter this time to stay out of trouble; he grimaced at the name, but could tell Leo was just joking. No--no problems. But my dad and I Portkeyed to the phone box up top again--just in case. Took us to the Atrium this time instead of Security.

Leo beamed smugly, tugging his shirt down over his ample midsection, a shirt that was even brighter than the one he'd worn the day before. Told you I knew someone--and I still get to hear that Security story later.

Ron wondered which someone' Leo knew who could sneak a high-risk visitor past Security when the Order couldn't. Of course, the name change could have had something to do with it-- his dad probably wouldn't consider using a fake name in any Ministry dealings.

So--welcome to the wonderful world of shipping and receiving, Leo said, passing Ron and rounding his desk. Ready to go to work?Yeah, I reckon, Ron answered, rather unenthusiastically. He had explained to his father what had happened the afternoon before and Arthur, acquainted with Leo though he didn't know him well, didn't see how it could do Ron any harm to go help out for a day (although Arthur had been a bit disappointed that Ron hadn't felt well enough to go looking for motorbike parts). Are you the only one who works here--well, usually?No--no, there's Piddle, Leo answered, shuffling some items on his desk to find a flat place to set his coffee.

Ron asked, trying not to be amused at the name. I haven't seen anyone else down here yet.Yeah--I know, Leo answered with a note of disgust. Has a real talent for staying hidden, doesn't he, the little whelp? Don't worry, we'll go scare him up later. Oh, and there's the Space Dislocators next door--technically part of shipping, they are, since they do the actual charms. Leo began considering Ron with an odd look. Hmmm--I'd say...parcels. More a parcel kind of bloke than a parchment worker? Ron asked. Probably parcels--yeah. Better than parchment work.Me too, Leo said. But being in charge, I gotta know it all. That means--I'll sort the desk, and show you how to weigh and record the parcels for shipping. After lunch, we'll do receiving and in-house deliveries. Piddle takes care of all owls--those few minutes he works. Leo moved around in front of the counter. Let's take the tour.

Leo first showed Ron the area for parcels to be shipped; Ron visually scanned the mounds of boxes that went as far as he could see back towards the lifts. You ship all these parcels in one day?Oh hell no, Leo said. We do what we can. The big-office blokes don't want to send me any more help. They don't want to replace Piddle because he's some big Ministry so-and-so's great uncle once removed or something. They changed all the regulations when there was a break-in in June--you hear about that?

Ron tried to remain straight-faced. Yeah--I heard.Now everything goes through the Ministry-_everything!_ No more site to site shipping for government offices until further notice. This place is mad, Leo said. The house-elves push everything forward each night, we do shipping until lunch, then we move to the receiving side all afternoon. What gets done, gets done. What doesn't, waits. Those new regs are killing us--how do you think things got this way in a little over a month?I had no idea, Ron said, starting to realize how happy Leo must have been when he'd managed to bumble in and make such a mess of the shipping desk. The supervisor probably would have done anything to get some more help down here--especially free help-- no matter what it took to get them here. That was probably one of the main reasons Salomon didn't seem to give a damn what Ron had done to irk Security.

As he followed Leo through the narrow aisle-way to the far side of the room, Ron began to think. Talking about the break-in had made Ron think of Harry, and thinking about having to return to the Ministry today made him wonder why he hadn't thought earlier about what Harry had said regarding Hermione...

_And the Ministry should have a record of where she went somewhere, in somebody's files...We've already broken in once...How often do you plan on going to work with your dad?Out of there, Piddle--let's go! Up and at _

Leo's irritated, booming voice of yesterday was back, but Ron was happy to find that the voice didn't seem to be directed at him this time. The shipping supervisor kicked at a large heavily-stamped carton with one of his huge white trainers. The box finally tumbled heavily from its stack onto the stone floor.

Out, you lazy lump of wizard! Leo shouted, still kicking at the box. Time to do us the favor of working for an hour!

Ron began to realize then that the parcel they faced was open on one end. A small, pointy-faced little man crawled out over the open flaps, rubbing at his eyes with alternating hands as he used the other one to inch his way out. Pushing up from the floor, the small older man seemed almost frail. Ron was at first inclined to feel sorry for him--and was a little embarrassed that he had watched as Leo bounced him around in the box while he kicked at it. Ron at least tried to give the little man a pleasant look--but that was only until Piddle turned his entire body toward Ron to direct a sour, evil glare at him.

Oh, this is Ron, Leo said. Ron-- Tredmont Piddle. Ron's just here for the day, Piddle. But even as a rookie, he'll probably get more done today than you do in a week.

Suddenly Ron didn't feel so sorry for the little man any more--Piddle's expression reminded him more of a goblin's glare than any wizard's face he'd ever seen. Piddle then swung on Leo and spat at his shoe, stalking away immediately toward the Owl Room.

Missed em again, Piddle, Leo taunted after him, then turned to Ron. That's only the first time of many we'll find him holed up sleeping somewhere today, I'll wager.

Leo continued walking; the light was getting so dim that Ron had thought Leo was leading him to a corner. But once the two of them got closer, Ron saw that there was indeed a large window cut into the wall that led into the next room. That's where the Space Dislocators work. Everything too big or heavy for an owl to carry--goes here. Always lots of things flying about in there, so we only leave this small window open. Hey, Flo! Leo waved at a woman close by who was wearing goggles and holding her wand aloft. This shift of dislocators is amazing. Watch this, Leo said to Ron.

Flo' said nothing but raised her hand momentarily in greeting to Leo, then she turned back to her work. (It was quite loud in the room, though Ron couldn't immediately tell what was making all the noise.)

Before the woman was a very large parcel--she checked a stamp on the side of the box, then quickly glanced up onto an enormous screen on the wall that was covered by a map of the world. Ron noticed that the map had been divided into eight segments by hemisphere, the east-west hemispheres being divided twice. There seemed to be one tiny, bright red light in some of the segments; some segments had no lights, but there was never more than one in each segment.

Flo pointed her wand toward the segment that held India and muttered something, then one of the tiny, bright red lights appeared there on the map. She pointed her wand to the stamp on the side of the parcel and said something, moved down a line and repeated the action. Flo moved so that the parcel was between her and the huge map, pointed her wand once more to the bright red light in India, and muttered again. Absolutely nothing happened for at least two minutes, Flo was frozen in place with her wand held high, and Ron was beginning to wonder if something had gone wrong when all of a sudden a very loud, roaring whoosh was heard and he felt the air pressure change around him. The next thing he knew, the parcel in front of Flo was gone with the noise and the pressure was back to normal. In fact, the woman walked away to retrieve another package from the back of the room and start the process all over again.

Ron breathed in awe.

Space Dislocation's a wonder, isn't it? Leo asked. Turning to look into Ron's bewildered face, he chuckled. You know the theory behind it, right?Reckon we haven't studied that one yet, Ron said slowly, still staring at the empty space on the floor that Flo's first parcel had previously filled.

Well, Flo first had to check if anyone was dislocating space in that area of the world at that moment because the spell will go haywire if you try doing it in two places too close together, Leo explained. Then you've got a real mess. But anyway, what Flo did was send a spell to the place in India where the parcel was to be delivered. She created a space vacuum exactly the shape and size of the parcel--sort of like wizard space, but in reverse. You know what wizard space is, right?

Ron moaned. God, yes.Good. So she creates a space vacuum there, the vacuum itself searches desperately for something that size to fill it, and she uses a spell to sort of nudge the parcel toward the vacuum until it realizes that parcel is just what it needs. The vacuum takes care of the rest and there it is--delivered--simple wizarding physics, really.That's quite amazing, Ron said, finally able to converse a bit. And they receive parcels here the same way?Yeah--other side of the room, though, Leo said. You can sort of see it from here. Only trick is to keep enough open space there for the Space Dislocators from elsewhere to cut the space and create their vacuums the size they need. If we get overlapping vacuums we're in deep dragon pucky. Trouble is, to be a receiver you've got to get really good at seeing vacuums--and they're damned hard to see.

Ron understood how that could be true. He squinted to see through the workers and parcels to the far side of the room. He looked at a platform where there first seemed to be nothing, then immediately a huge parcel appeared with the same horribly loud whoosh.

Ron had a sudden thought. Couldn't ship living things that way, could you?

Leo snorted. Well, you _could--_ but between the two choices, you'd rather be splinched. That tell you anything?

Ron had been afraid of something like that. We'd better get to work or none of these people will have anything to do, Leo said. Not that they'd mind, but the people waiting for those parcels would. So, let's see, you're really just a kid...what are you, seventeen? Headed into seventh year at school in September? Or you just out?

Ron, flattered, briefly considered simply agreeing with Leo. But somehow he had a feeling lying might come back to haunt him--as it always had. Sixteen--going into sixth year. Leo said, his brows raised. But you can do Mobilus Spells by now, right?

_I think I've done a million in the past few weeks._ Yeah, sure-- no problem.Good. Okay, then, your job is to measure all three dimensions of each parcel, write the measurements into the stamped seal on the side of the box, then weigh it, Leo explained. Log the parcel To' and From' addresses in the book and do _Mobiliparcellus! _right onto that stack in the back of the Space Dislocation room. Come on, I'll get you the stamp and the log--they're on my desk. Need a quill?

Ron was still thinking about the Space Dislocation process. Erm, yeah--I need a quill, he said distractedly, trying to walk quickly to keep up with Leo. Er, the weight--does that do something to foul up the vacuum somehow or-- Leo said. Weight doesn't matter a bit with the vacuum, just size. But we weigh the parcels at the shipping point and at the receiving point for one important reason. Weight'll tell you if something's been removed from a shipment somehow--or if something's been added--we're talking thieves and Explosion Spells here, Ron. That's one reason the Ministry wants everything to go through this shipping department--so all of the weights are standardized on these scales--and everyone in magical receiving all over the world's been warned to weigh their parcels before opening them. That's especially true for any of the Ministry outposts that need supplies--we ship them all for those places. Just think if some pretty little girl received some package somewhere and forgot to weigh it first. Could be she wouldn't notice that it came in heavier there than it left here--she opens it up-- and kablooey! Not very nice to think about, but there's not very nice people out there these days. Ron said, now further distracted by what Leo had said.

Leo and Ron had reached the shipping desk, but before Leo moved behind it, he narrowed his eyes at Ron. That high-risk Security list--you're not on there for blowing things up, are you?

Ron barely heard his voice, but the long pause in the conversation indicated he was probably supposed to say something. Erm...what? Blowing things up? Oh, no--I'm not on there for that. It was more like breaking and entering, I reckon. Leo replied, no problem then. That sort of stuff happens around here all the time. He moved to his desk and shoved some parchment scraps around, apparently looking for the size and weight stamp for Ron.

But Ron barely noticed. Something about the image that came to mind when Leo had mentioned some pretty little girl' being blown up...that and the fact he'd been thinking about where Hermione was when he saw the world map... The two things got all crossed up in his mind somehow and he couldn't shake a bad feeling that shuddered its way through his nerves.

_But it's okay, _Ron told himself,_ Hermione's doing science, not dealing with the mail. Something with animals--she'd have no reason to be opening parcels anywhere--you're being ridiculous, Weasley. But maybe if you can find a way to get upstairs--surely some of these things have to be delivered to all parts of the Ministry...someone here has to know where she is..._

Hey, you're not going Piddle' on me now, are you? Ron heard Leo's voice, but it sounded far away and he couldn't believe what he thought he heard.

Ron replied in horror.

Leo tried to stifle his laugh, but it seemed to start deep in his belly and work its way out, stopping him from explaining for a moment or two. Sorry-- little Shipping Department joke. Very little. When you don't want to work, you're going Piddle'--get it?Oh. Oh yeah, Ron said, giving a courtesy chuckle. I was just thinking of something else--that's all.I know, kid, Leo said, looking a little sheepish. Just trying to keep myself entertained. Here you go--log book, quill, ink tray and the stamp. You know how to use your wand to get the measurements, right?Yeah--basic wizard math, Ron answered.

Oh--forgot to tell you--long as you're inside the Ministry building, you're cleared to use magic to work, even if you're underage, Leo said. You can start at the front there and get as many parcels over to the Space Dislocation Department as you can before noon. Let me know if you have questions. I'll be right--here. He pointed at the desktop and settled into his chair.

Ron collected all of the items Leo handed him and walked all the way to the left end of the front row of parcels. He looked at the stacks behind it and shook his head._ At least you're only here for a day and this can't be worse than the shed. One at a time, Weasley--no matter what, you can only do one at a time..._

Hermione said in exasperation. She was seated at the table in the training room and leaning her head back, her eyes closed. It had been nearly an hour of coaxing now and her patience was wearing thin. She sat straight and spoke loudly, swinging her head to direct her voice throughout the room, Leif --chair! Chair! Right NOW!

Trying to get the young Yeti, Leif, to complete his picture diary for the week was proving to be as difficult as only one other task in her life: trying to get Ron to start his homework more than twelve hours before it was due, no matter how long it would take to complete the assignment. (Although she did have to admit that he was improving in that regard the last half of fifth year.) In any case, Hermione was finding that it must be something to do with adolescent males that had them up and about, doing anything and everything to procrastinate. At least Ron couldn't disappear at will--yet.

Scanning the room for the hint of a purple halo anywhere, she couldn't make out a thing, especially anywhere near the chair where the Yeti was supposed to be seated. A sudden snort near her left ear made her jump and it was all she could do not to consider grabbing Leif over her shoulder by his short chest hairs and dragging him around the table before shoving him into the chair.

Hermione snapped her gaze to the left and found a purple halo hovering no more than  
a foot from her face. That meant he had to be leaning down. Although Leif was still considered a young Yeti teenager at twenty-nine, he was already a good seven feet tall--when you could see him, of course.

Hermione said sternly. No playing! Show yourself! She had already found that it wasn't necessary to speak to Leif gently--in fact, gentleness got no response at all--pretty much like the response her firmness was currently getting. She sighed.

Yesterday had gone so well with Starr that Dr. Null had encouraged Hermione to try her hand with Leif. The young Yeti was one of the few at Trapperton who had shown no outward signs of aggression. He had been sent to the camp as an orphan. His mother had been killed by some senseless wizard who had antagonized her, then been surprised at her aggressive response. Though Leif likely could have survived on his own in the wild at his age, he'd been living in a particularly secluded area of Canadian woodlands. The Yeti territories surrounding his belonged to very powerful older males--chances were that one of the males would move in to kill Leif at the earliest opportunity, long before he had the chance for puberty and the course of nature to change him into the strong and threatening young male he was destined to be.

Hermione's frustration, however, was well on its way to despondency. Maybe I'm just not very good at this, she said quietly, throwing herself back in her seat.

A moment later, she felt leathery fingertips slide tenderly down her left cheek, though she still could see nothing at all. Suddenly the tabletop in front of her bowed in the center, then popped up level again, disrupting the few cards that had been there. Something hit the chair across from her hard enough to push it back a foot or so, then the room fell silent. A purplish circle glowed some three feet above the chair seat for a few moments, then a young Yeti with mottled charcoal and pearl gray fur materialized there.

Hermione shook her head and tried to remain angry, but she couldn't help but smile at the Yeti looking innocently and attentively back at her. Leif stared into her face for a moment, but her smile seemed to unnerve him and he turned his gaze to the floor.

Hermione said gently. Leif, look at me. She waited for the Yeti to look into her face again and when he did, she stared straight into his orange eyes. Thank you. Ready?

Leif pushed with his legs to move himself and the chair closer to the table, then started working with the cards immediately. Leif's diary' started with the fact that he'd caught a large fish in the river the other day and had apparently enjoyed eating it immensely. But the next concept may have told Hermione precisely what Null had avoided telling her the other day. Using the cards, Leif wrote': _Spyder hit Trey. Trey hit Spyder. Spyder and Flaime hurt Trey. Null come. Trey run. Spyder and Flaime run._

Hermione became worried at the thought of what had really happened, but she had some other questions for Leif.

Where Leif? she asked, both out loud and by pushing cards in front of Leif.

Leif pushed the picture of the tree toward her.

Leif go with Trey?

Leif look confused, but then pointed to the top of the tree with one finger and pushed his leaf' picture card at her.

Oh, you were_ in_ the tree? Leif here? She pointed at the treetop to confirm it.

Leif pushed a card with a woodland photograph on it toward Hermione. Null had taught her this was the card the Yeti had learned to use for the concepts of or . The opposite concept card had imaginative, oddly-colored drawings of flowers bigger than dragons and fish walking in the desert, among other things--this one indicated or .

Hermione pointed at all of the diary' sentences Leif had made with the cards. Then she pushed the card toward him and the card, pointing back and forth, then at Leif. This true? Or untrue?

Leif immediately grabbed the card and slapped it down on the table in front of Hermione, pointing emphatically at the photograph.

Hermione nodded seriously at Leif, said thank you once more, then reached into a large container behind her and set several large dog biscuits on the table for Leif. Dr. Null had explained the day before that the handlers had once caught some of the Yeti stealing biscuits from the cages of the guard dogs when they were out and found that the Yeti seemed to have a taste for them. Since then, they'd been used as rewards' for the Yeti, once they'd completed a good day's work' in the training rooms.

While Leif was crunching away happily and dribbling crumbs down his chest, Hermione sent for the handlers. Once Hank and Ulav had come to escort the Yeti back to the habitat, she set about the task of recording Leif's diary'.

It would be interesting to check out Leif's story with Starr later, if indeed the older Yeti had managed to witness the disagreement, too, or if she had heard about it from some of the other Yeti in their own communications. Hermione knew Null would be checking her diary record of Leif's story, but a satisfied smile crossed her lips at the same time the thought crossed her mind. If Dr. Null didn't always want to tell her everything, in the end it might not matter. She had other friends who would.

Ron noticed that Leo was watching him do the Mobilus Charm to send the final box from the third row to the Space Dislocation Room.

Nice work, kid, Leo said, smiling at him. Couldn't have got much more done myself. Actually, got twice the work done because I sorted out the whole desk while you were shipping parcels. Ready to break for lunch?Yeah, I reckon so, but there's just so many left to do... Ron said rather hopelessly. Should I just leave everything on the desk?Good enough for me--wait! Leo said suddenly, holding up his large hand. Maybe you'd better leave it on the counter instead--just in case.

Ron smiled. Heh-- good idea. He stacked the items on the counter.

You eating with your dad today? Leo asked, reaching under his desk and pulling out a large cloth bag.

Ron answered. He's got a lunch meeting with the whole department, so he can't. But he said he'd leave the sandwich my mum sent on his desk and I could go get it whenever we had a break.Oh, you probably want that then, Leo said. Your mum a good cook?Usually amazing, yeah, Ron said. But she always sends me corned beef--I _hate_ corned beef--almost as much as liver.Hmmm, I think I see your point, Leo agreed. Well, if you'd rather leave the corned beef for your dad, I've got plenty in here. Chicken legs, a leftover kabob, some curry and rice, lots of great things. He lifted the cloth bag up where Ron could see it and it did indeed look as if it was filled with enough food for several people. I stopped by my brother's place yesterday after work--mentioned to my sister-in-law I had someone coming in today-- that woman wants to feed the world, she does. This'll prove it to you.

_Chicken legs instead of corned beef? How stupid would I be to turn him down?_ Sure, if you're offering, Ron said. There's a water cooler in that back room by Space Dislocation, Leo said. Sometimes people come in and leave pumpkin juice or something--go get yourself something to drink. I've brought mine.

Ron found an old cup in the stack by the cooler. He rinsed it out, then quickly guzzled down four full cups of water--it tasted so good to him that he filled the cup a fifth time and carried the water back to Leo's desk. Leo had since pulled out another section to the desk that Ron hadn't known was there, more like an extended desktop that opened to the side. Food was laid out on the new desktop section:

Grab that extra chair over there and tuck in, Ron, Leo said.

For the first few minutes, the two ate in silence, Ron realizing that he was far hungrier than he'd thought. Leo was right--the food was delicious--though some of the seasonings were different than Ron was used to (and a little spicier).

After the first wave of hunger had been satisfied, Ron began to notice the silence. He thought it would probably be polite to at least talk with the man instead of just stuffing down all of his food without talking. _But what to talk about?_

Ron scanned the bare walls, finding no conversation inspiration there--but then his eyes fell upon the now-organized desktop nearby. There, neatly placed on the side of the workspace was the motorbike magazine that got him into this mess in the first place--and even better, underneath it was another.

So...you like motorbikes... Ron said, taking another swig of his water.

Leo looked up from eating and smiled at him. I do. What makes you think that?

Ron said nothing, but pointed at the magazines. Then he glanced at Leo sheepishly. Actually, that's what I was looking at yesterday when I went round the counter without noticing. You had one open on your desk.Yeah, I don't always have lunch-break conversation down here, you know. Leo wiped his hands on a napkin and reached for the two magazines to show Ron. These are from my brother's shop--this one's the most recent, but he gets new ones all the time. Leo flipped open the top magazine to the very motorbike that Ron had been ogling the day before. Look at this one--isn't she a beauty?

Ron found himself gazing in awe again at the shiny chrome machine. Yeah--that one's wicked.My brother has one of those on display in his shop window, Leo explained.

_In his shop window? Here I was thinking his brother ran a newsstand or something._ He had to ask-- but this was almost too good to be true. Your brother deals with motorbikes?Sure as anything--and he's a damned good mechanic, too, if you're ever in the need, Leo said proudly. He may not be able to do magic with a wand like we do, but the man does his own kind of magic with a wrench, I'm tellin' ya.Oh, your brother's a-- Leo said quietly. That's one of the reasons we came to London together, Ricky and I. Our family never cared what the neighbors said, yet Ric always felt he was letting them down somehow when he found he couldn't do magic. But like I said, the man is magical with a wrench; he'd already been repairing Muggle cars in a nearby town at home. He decided to open his own shop-- and always knew he could support his family that way. But he didn't want to do it there. So I transferred from my Ministry job in Samoa and my brother set things up with a local bank here in London-- we packed our bags, and here we are. That was five years ago. He's doing great with his shop in Muggle London, I work my job here--and we get to stay together.I know--it's weird when your brothers are far away, Ron agreed.

You have brothers too? Leo asked.

Too many, really, Ron said. Three brothers away, two more who are--in limbo, you might say-- and my sister and I are at home when we're not at school.Yeah, that's a few, Leo agreed. You interested in motorbikes? Don't mind my asking, but most wizards couldn't give a hoot about them.I don't know much about them now, but I'm learning. Ron wasn't sure if he should explain in great depth-- memories of what happened when the Ministry found out about the Anglia came to mind. He didn't _think_ Leo was the type to say anything, but he really didn't know the man very well...

You're learning? Leo sounded a bit confused. You mean you have a motorbike now? Or you're just reading up on them...?I have a chance to work on one--rebuild a junker, you know? But nothing I'd ever use or anything, Ron said, trying to eliminate any suspicions.

Never use? What'd be the point of that? Leo asked. Then he leaned down and spoke softly. I know you're not of age yet or nothin', but have you ever ridden one?

Ron smiled. _You know you've sat on the seat and pretended when no one was looking--but that doesn't count. _No, never had the chance.

Leo looked at Ron knowingly and held up a thick finger. Once--that's all it'll take--once--then you won't want to be without one. This junker you're talking about--does it run?Well...no, but-- Ron paused, making a crucial decision--_should I or shouldn't I? _Leo had trusted him with his brother's secret of sorts--he decided to take the chance--and maybe change the story a bit just in case. Here's what happened--my friend's uncle once had a motorbike long ago that ended up with my dad. But it's old and messed up and some of the parts need replacing. A month or two ago this friend's uncle...died. It's my friend's birthday soon and--I think he'd really like to have this motorbike to remember his uncle by. But it's got lots of work to be done--and I don't even know if I can afford the parts to repair it. My dad was going to go into London with me and see if we could find a motorbike shop--And now you've found one, Leo said. But you're right about the parts--those things are expensive, some of them. If you come in to work with your dad once in a while and bring me some of the bad parts, I can ask my brother to see what kind of a deal he can swing for you. But there's not always a lot he can do with the prices he charges, depending on what the parts cost him.

Ron sighed. Amazingly enough, this conversation had given him both a great relief and a great worry. Now he had a place to get replacement parts--but where in the world would he get the money to pay for them? Plus now he'd have to face the fact that if he somehow replaced all the parts and Sirius' motorbike _still_ didn't work, it would come down to a problem with the mechanic--him. At least this would be worth a try--and maybe he could get some advice from Leo's brother.

Leo looked as if he was thinking deeply of something. You know--you're a right strong worker.

Ron felt his ears get warm. What would you think--? Leo started. Nah--you're on holiday from school--you probably wouldn't want to-- Ron asked anxiously.

Well, I was just thinking... Leo said. You need motorbike parts--and I need help. What if you came in to work here for a while, and I paid you for your help-- with parts? I can't officially hire you because you're not old enough--and as I said, the people in Ministry personnel won't allow me another employee, but I have a petty cash fund for the department...I could use some of that--and I'd be glad to chip in a bit on my own just to catch up a little...My brother would sell me the parts wholesale...You'd do that for me? Ron asked, surprised at the sudden resolution to his earlier worries. And your brother would too?Sure--why not? Leo beamed.

Ron grinned. All right. Sounds like we both win that way. I'll do it. _May be tricky explaining it all to Mum, considering..._

We'll make sure by seeing how you do on deliveries this afternoon, Leo said. But if you're as quick at that as you were with the shipping this morning, you're hired--well, in a manner of speaking, of course. Leo held out his large hand for Ron to shake. Besides-- I get my brother doing some good will work and someday, when you're rich and famous, you'll go back to his shop with all your money and buy--_that!_

  
Ron looked where Leo pointed in the magazine at the beautiful new motorbike, then snorted. Yeah, right--when I'm rich and famous. Tell your brother not to hold his breath.

©Space Dislocation as a name, an imaginary process, and an idea is hereby copyrighted as of the date of the posting of this chapter on the Internet and confirmed by means of US mail.

_What can I say? Just in case and-- I kinda like it. :) NZ_


	12. Matters of Interpretation

_A/N:__My betas have been at it again, proving how wonderful they are by continuing to see me through this. You are the best, **sunshyndaisies, Seakays,** and **Christina Teresa**--my gratitude for all of your help and brilliant suggestions is endless. NZ_

****

Chapter 12  
Matters of Interpretation

Starr make it again? Hermione requested with concern, mixing the cards that Starr had just chosen to build her diary sentence with all of the others and pushing the whole stack forward. It was getting late in the day and Hermione didn't want to keep Starr (or herself, for that matter) from the evening feeding, but she had to be sure she'd understood Starr's sentence correctly.

Starr looked a bit confused, but obligingly set to work again, pulling the same cards from the stack that she had used the first time. Lining up the cards on the table, the picture sentence stated: Sloane hurt Trey.

Hermione's brow furrowed. Sloane was one of the handlers that she'd hardly seen--not that she knew any of them well. She had no means to ask Starr just _how _Sloane had hurt Trey, but she was aware that unless it was a matter of self-defense, the handlers were strictly forbidden from harming the Yeti in any way. She had a thought and moved two of the cards that Starr had placed in order.

Hermione sequenced Sloane hurt, then pushed the and not true cards at Starr.

Starr rather emphatically picked up the not true card and slapped it down on the table, then stared Hermione straight in the eye.

Hermione nodded and said seriously, Starr true. Shuffling a few more cards about, she pulled out the one with her own picture blinking back at her along with some others and sequenced Hermione tell Dr. Null.

This seemed to appease Starr. Hermione pulled out a scrap of parchment to send a memo for the handlers to come and return the Yeti before her to the habitat. Yet just as she set her quill to the parchment, she stopped. How could she turn Starr over to the handlers after what the Yeti had just reported? What if Sloane was one of those who came to get Starr?

Hermione sat silently for a moment while she made up her mind. Yes, she knew the rules, but she also thought these might be extenuating circumstances. Where would the wizarding world be if she and Harry and Ron (though she'd never admit it to the two of them) had always followed all the rules? Besides, what could go wrong with Starr? It wasn't more than forty meters to the outside door that led to the natural habitat.

Hermione decisively moved several cards around on the table and turned them towards Starr: Starr come quiet Hermione.

Starr looked momentarily surprised, but also seemed rather awed. The Yeti's big hand cleared the other cards out of the way as she turned the card toward Hermione that meant .

Hermione stood and walked to the door, waiting for the Yeti to follow her lead. Some of the Yeti wore shackles inside the training rooms to make certain they could be managed, but Starr hadn't worn them for months according to Dr. Null. Hermione fervently hoped she wouldn't take this chance to test her limits.

Opening the heavy door, Hermione looked out into the hallway and didn't see anyone in either direction. She moved into the hall, looking back and waving at Starr, who stepped out next to her. It amazed Hermione how small and child-like she felt when standing next to a Yeti, just as she had always felt with Hagrid.

Hermione and Starr walked without incident to the back door. Hermione tried to push the door open, but the weight of the gigantic thing made it difficult. Starr began to push with her and the door instantly swung wide. But before Starr had a chance to step through, her attention snapped to the side; Hermione had heard the voices, too.

A group of handlers were gathered around an old picnic table. Dr. Voyde was there as well, standing next to the man Hermione had seen with his hand on her back in the commons. The man was again talking with authority to the others in that deep, gravelly voice, sounding as if he was issuing orders to the new shift of handlers coming on for the night.

Starr and Hermione stood frozen, watching the group.

We don't want any permanent damage, of course, so in order to make the Yeti more compliant when you have difficulties... For some reason, the man speaking paused there and smiled strangely at the group of men; eerily, they returned his strange smile. Be sure to use the _Dolorus Maximus! _Spell. To show how effective this is, we'll test a _Dolorus Minimus_ ... The man leaned forward, repeating the incantation and touching one handler's shoulder with his wand. Hank's turn today.

Hank immediately howled and started grabbing at his hand, arm, and shoulder, obviously in great pain. The speaker, Dr. Voyde, and the other handlers did something that surprised Hermione: they laughed. After a minute or two, Hank's pain seemed to lessen and he actually forced himself to chuckle as well, though he was hardly the most jovial among them.

Hermione had thought she and Starr had gone unnoticed; the group appeared quite involved in their own discussion. She waved her hand at Starr to indicate she should move out into the habitat and Starr hesitantly took two steps before they both heard the shout.

Hey! _Hey!!_

Apparently one of the men seated at the table facing them had seen Starr emerge from the lab, but he didn't see her for long. Starr crouched and disappeared almost instantly and Hermione could only see the purple glow of her halo for a few meters before it sank into the shadows of the dusk.

Hermione only briefly considered backing into the building and running. There was nothing but a long hallway of doors behind her, most of which were locked so the Yeti couldn't escape through them when they were brought in. Besides, the man who had been talking when she and Starr emerged had already lumbered about half of the distance to her, closely followed by Dr. Voyde.

You! Little girl! the man shouted.

And something about the tone of his voice made Hermione shiver. She'd heard that voice before--she knew she had. But where? Surely not just here. And his lumbering gait... Hermione froze and realized there was nothing she could do now but face the music.

Dr. Voyde called and the man stopped moving to turn to her. The two of them spoke briefly but heatedly for a moment, Carl seeming determined to advance on the open door next to which Hermione stood. 

Hermione couldn't hear what they were saying, but the man lunged in her direction once more. Then at a touch and a second plea from Dr. Voyde, he grudgingly headed back toward the picnic table, glancing angrily behind him once more.

Miss Granger! Dr. Voyde said tersely as she approached. What do you think you're doing? It was odd to see the same person who'd seemed so timid looking so irritated. 

I -- I-- Hermione stammered, trying to think at lightning speed. They'd already seen Starr, so there was no room for denials. I was just releasing Starr after our session--that's all.Hasn't Dr. Null given you instructions on how the Yeti are to be handled? Voyde demanded. She had stopped next to Hermione, but even in her current state of anger, couldn't manage to look Hermione in the eye.

Yes, Doctor, Hermione answered sheepishly. But she's very calm around me, and I just thought I'd save the handlers the trouble-- Something about the sudden personality change in Dr. Voyde made Hermione nervous about telling her what Starr had reported.

Please don't do us any favors, Miss Granger, Dr Voyde hissed. Someone like you gets hurt for disobeying safety regulations and we lose our project. Just--like--that. Come with me--I think we need to let Dr. Null know he must review procedures with you.

Hermione held the door open as Pamela Voyde swept past her and down the hall. She grimaced at the thought of Dr. Null finding out what she'd done-- or in reality, not done. But she had no choice but to hurry along behind Dr. Voyde.

Dr. Null sat at his desk, what little of his head that could be seen propped up with his forearm. He moved to rub absently at his brow with his hand, poring over some paperwork on the desktop in front of him.

Dr. Null? Voyde said, causing the man to look up at them groggily.

Hermione's first thought was that Dr. Null did not look well. His skin was pastier than usual and there were dark circles beneath his eyes. She hadn't seen him since early this afternoon and he had been fine then; obviously things had changed. Hermione felt like kicking herself for her lousy timing.

Even Dr. Voyde in all of her irritation seemed to notice. Chris? Are you all right? Null muttered. I'll be fine. What's going on?I regret having to report this to you, but your _intern,_ Voyde said in mild disgust, glancing sideways at Hermione, just took it upon herself to escort Starr from the lab into the compound--without the aid of the handlers. I reminded her that was definitely against safety regulations, but I thought you might need to impress upon her the gravity of the situation--and the possible consequences to us should anything unfortunate happen.

Null looked as if the idea was difficult to process. Hermione? I can't imagine Hermione being so careless with the regulations-- just doesn't seem the type. Dr. Null then adjusted in his chair to look straight at her. Is this true?

Hermione was mortified, even though she knew she'd had good reason to do it. Well, yes, but-- there were _circumstances...No matter what the circumstances, we can't allow any disregard of procedures, Null confirmed. You could put the whole study in jeopardy, you know.So Dr. Voyde has told me, Hermione said dully. I'm sorry -- it won't happen again.If you've got this covered then, Chris, I'd better get back to the men, Dr. Voyde said. The new shift is coming on and it's so important to keep everyone informed what with the change in the behavioral climate--you know what I mean.By all means, doctor, Null said. I'll handle this. The zoolowizard still had a slight grimace on his face as if it hurt him to talk._

Hermione and Null watched silently as Dr. Voyde strode from the office. _At least he had the decency to wait until she was gone,_ Hermione thought.

Sit down, please. Dr. Null was rubbing at his forehead again, his eyes crinkled.

Swinging the old, creaky office chair from her work station around to face him, she sat down tentatively on the edge.

What happened, Hermione? You know you're not allowed to handle the Yeti on your own, even Starr. The creatures are still, in essence, operating on instinct. Even if they didn't intend to hurt you, they have the strength of ten grown wizards and could easily cause serious injury. I am a bit disappointed -- I thought you knew to be more careful than that.I'm sorry, sir. I really am. But as I said, there were... circumstances. Earlier, in my session with Starr, she reported something rather strange. She said that Sloane hurt Trey. I had her rebuild the sentence in case she'd made a mistake, I questioned her on it, but she insisted it was true. I wanted to report that to you before I turned her over to any of the handlers because I wasn't sure-- Dr. Null interrupted, a bit impatient in his pain, -- these men are professionals. They would do nothing to harm the Yeti unless they deemed it necessary for their own protection. Dr. Voyde has hired the best. So either something happened with Trey that we're unaware of, Starr's got it wrong -- or you have.But I could tell from the way she looked at me-- Hermione protested.

And you've had how many days of experience testing the Yeti and recording behavior? No, I think I'd better work with Starr tomorrow -- as Trey's mate, she can be a bit overly-sensitive about him sometimes. I'll see if I get the same reading and check into your allegations. Please go collect the paperwork -- you can finish it here at your station and leave it on my desk when you're through. 

Hermione said nothing more. It didn't necessarily sound as if Null didn't believe her, just that perhaps he felt she'd made a poor interpretation of Starr's writing'. Plus she hadn't dared to bring up all that Leif had told her. She wondered if he would have been upset at all if he'd been feeling better. Can I get you anything? Forgive my saying so, but--you look awful.No--just a damned migraine, Dr. Null replied. What time is it anyway? Have I missed lunch?Lunch, sir? Hermione repeated in disbelief. It's nearly past time for dinner.

Null sighed. I hate it when I do that. No wonder my head's killing me.I'm sure Tulip has something wonderful prepared--she always does. Would you like me to bring you something to eat? Hermione asked.

No, no, I'd better go myself--you have a diary summary to finish, Null said dully as he slowly stood. Just leave it on the desk-- I'll get to it. Did I tell you that already?

Even if she was unsure about the circumstances, Hermione felt badly that she'd let him down. Dr. Null? I meant what I said before--it'll never happen again.

Null turned to face her. I know. Everyone makes mistakes--and you're new to this. It's just that mistakes here can be so costly-- for the people involved, for the Yeti, for the future of our study and the future of their race. Everyone here's so sensitive to anything that can cost us the project--we've worked such a long time to get here.

The zoolowizard managed a strained little smile and painfully turned to go.

Hermione wasn't used to making mistakes -- or admitting that she had. On the other hand, she wasn't entirely certain that she'd made one in not allowing the handlers access to Starr.

She sighed and stood to go retrieve her diary summary from the training room. Two steps later, she felt something underfoot and bent to collect Dr. Null's quill from the floor, which had apparently fallen through the hole in his pocket again. Lying near the quill was a small, crumpled wad of parchment, probably another pocket escapee. Without knowing whether or not the parchment was trash, she set the two items on Null's desktop, noticing in the brighter light of his oil lamp that there was part of a word visible on the outside of the parchment ball.

She re-checked the room and found herself alone-- alone with her thoughts of un-crumpling the parchment and reading what it said as well. Effectively stashing any feelings of guilt behind her substantial curiosity, she uncurled and flattened the rumpled mess. There were only two words written as a question in Null's bold scrawl; they made absolutely no sense in her experiences to date at Trapperton: Cent. studies?

Thinking hard, she couldn't make sense of the message in relation to the Yeti. Perhaps it had something to do with something from the turn of the century, or how behavior had changed since then. Central? Center? She shrugged and decided to dismiss it--in light of the random way Null's mind seemed to work, it could mean almost anything.

Wandering into the quiet, empty hallway behind the offices on her way to the training room, Hermione heard several faraway shouts and hoots from Voyde's men just outside the building in the habitat. One of them laughed and even though she really had no interest in getting to know the handlers personally, something about walking down a darkened, empty hallway just after having been reprimanded and listening to someone else laughing with a friend suddenly made her feel very isolated.

She'd only been here four full days now, though it seemed like much longer somehow. She was still thrilled by the prospect of learning from Dr. Null and he was indeed as compassionate and intelligent a man as all of the scientific journal articles had stated--as least as far as she could tell at this point.

But the reality of being away from the people and places with which she was familiar and comfortable was more difficult than she thought it would be. Here she wasn't the reliably brilliant Hermione Granger of Hogwarts, beloved and respected friend of Harry and Ron (or whatever she was to Ron, she re-thought), or the daughter her parents had always doted on. Here she was just another research assistant who was expected to learn what she could, perform her duties and uphold her part: no more, no less. And apparently, she was to give as little problem-solving input as possible.

What was funny was that she hadn't given a second thought to how much she would miss her family and friends. She envisioned herself on this great and wonderful adventure, which in a sense her internship was-- but somehow she had forgotten to envision what it would be like without everyone she knew and loved. Hermione hadn't planned on finding out just how much she needed them.

This was the night she'd planned to write to Harry and Ron and send off the first letter for each that would no doubt take them by surprise. Ron, especially, would likely be pleased to hear from her - at least, if all the fuss he'd made about her being out of touch was as big a deal to him as he'd let on. Hermione thought of all she had to tell her best friends and guessed that the letters would indeed require some great lengths of parchment.

She arrived in the training room to find her report precisely where she'd left it on the table. Stacking the picture cards and setting them away for another day's work, Hermione scooped up the diary parchment and doused the only lamp still lit in the room. With any luck, the rest of the report would go smoothly and quickly. She could ask Tulip for a light supper to pack up and take to her cabin where she could start in on those long letters to Ron and Harry. It was beginning to feel like this might be a long month indeed, but at least she could try to make the best of it.

This part does get really tedious, Leo said, roughly tossing another small package marked Fragile' across the room into the bin for the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. Perfect time for that Security story, Ron.

For an hour now, the two of them had been sorting urgent' parcels for the Ministry received by the Space Dislocation Department that day. Leo had explained that they would soon head into the office areas to actually distribute the mail and packages for the afternoon. But first, since he was lucky enough to have help now, he wanted to try and make some sort of dent in sorting the enormous pile of non-urgents' that had backed up since the new regulations began.

Because Leo had seen fit to trust him from the beginning and make him such a generous offer on the parts, Ron could see no harm in recounting a bit about the Department of Mysteries break-in to the shipping supervisor. After all, the man probably knew as much or more about it than he did.

You know that break-in in June that you mentioned? Ron began.

Yeah--Death Eaters came in, some Aurors were involved, rumor has it even old You-Know-Who and Albus Dumbledore came to call. The Atrium was almost completely destroyed--but then, you know Fudge--had to rebuild it like nothing ever happened, Leo said. Letters-to-the-Editor about that break-in were in all the papers, though they really tried to low-key the rumor mill here. What--you know somebody who was here that night?Er, yeah--something like that.Your dad, eh? Leo asked, continuing without giving Ron time to deny it. But how did you get on Security's list? Come down to watch with dad? Forget to return the quill you borrowed from someone's desk and they accused you of stealing it? They're famous for that kind of thing, you know.No, I didn't steal anything-- Ron said, then he thought again, --that I know of. Do you remember reading in the papers about Harry Potter and some of his friends from Hogwarts--

Leo stopped searching for the address on the parcel he held and stared at Ron. Wait --you go to Hogwarts, right? You know Harry Potter? _The_ Harry Potter?Yeah. Know him quite well, really, Ron said. Anyway, Harry came here to rescue someone- and he needed help--so some of us came along-- Leo said, dropping his jaw and his box completely now. NO! You're taking the mickey--you can't be--Well, I have had a bit of trouble remembering it, Ron said_ (quite the understatement,_ he thought), but, yeah, I was here with Harry that night.That's it! That's _it!_ Leo said. You'll not be leaving today until you tell me the whole thing--_the whole thing!_ Understand? Now--TELL!

At first Ron had been worried about how Leo would take it when he found out. On the other hand, Leo seemed far from some of the staunchly rule-bound Ministry workers Ron had met throughout his life--certainly much more relaxed about Ministry regulations than Percy would ever have been. But little did Ron expect Leo to regard him as some sort of celebrity for it.

Without actually saying who they had come to rescue, Ron recounted in very general terms most of what he knew about the night of the Department of Mysteries break-in, at least what Ginny had told him. Leo listened intently to every single word.

As Ron's description slowed to completion, Leo looked around the two of them and began to whisper. You know, there's been talk there was one room with brains all over the floor when it was over. _Brains!_ Can you imagine? Wonder what sick wizard came up with that rumor?

Ron did his best to act appalled. Ergh--who knows? His arms had started to twinge a bit, right along with his head, so he decided a change of subject was definitely in order. Besides, there was that thought had been in the back of his mind ever since it had come to him this morning. While he'd been stuck working in the shipping department, there wasn't a thing he could do about it; but once he could get familiar with the hallways and the offices... When do we head out to the departments with these?

Salomon looked at the wizard watch on his wide wrist, which pointed to You're already behind!' he said, rushing to rummage around on his desktop for a moment. Leo returned with a folded parchment in his hand. The Ministry map--has the department numbers all listed--they match up with this number in the address on the boxes. Long as each box gets to its number, we're good. Ron said, tucking the map into his back pocket. What goes first? _Time to see if any of this has a chance of working..._

Leo pulled a large, floating bin from the row they had been sorting into and shoved it at Ron. We'll give you an easy one first -- Department of Magical Games and Sports. Finish it off and come for another. Some of these go to what are supposed to be restricted floors, but far as I know, no one's ever been stopped while they're making deliveries no matter who they are.How long has it been since anyone besides you or Piddle has made the deliveries?  
Ron asked suspiciously.

Psshht--Piddle? He hasn't made deliveries in years--just Levitates the lighter mail and envelopes to their destinations, Leo said with some air of disgust. Course, he can't bring himself to help us out here, either--that might involve work. As for anyone else? Hmmm--probably a couple of years, I'd say. Ron said dryly.

Just remember you're Renald Wissle--and look like you know what you're doing, Leo replied, picking up Ron's tone of concern. Shouldn't be a problem--and just have me paged if it is.

Actually, things didn't turn out as badly as he thought they might at first. Ron went about his business delivering parcels and very few people paid any attention to him at all. Several asked about Leo, and if he was all right, but once they were told that Salomon was fine and had just qualified for some extra help, those asking were happy for the shipping supervisor (who most knew had been swamped). In fact, Ron was surprised at how easily he moved about all areas of the building, even those areas marked on his map as Restricted'. _If only things were this easy to get away with at Hogwarts, _he thought. But then, everyone in the Ministry offices was also operating under the assumption that Security had scrutinized everyone before they ever entered the building. It followed, then, that anyone found in the hallways, especially those who looked as if they belonged there working, wouldn't be suspect.

With each completed delivery, Ron's confidence grew that he might actually get away with what he'd hoped to accomplish as his secondary agenda--finding Hermione. He pushed his now-empty first bin against the wall and stopped to unfold the parchment map from his pocket. Following his finger along the hallways of the different levels and reading the names, he looked for prospects. _Hmmm, either the Department of Personnel or the Department of Magical Creatures --_either might have information as to where Hermione had gone. Not that he knew exactly how to get such information once he found the department; certainly those who worked there wouldn't just offer it up to some unknown new kid from the Shipping Department.

Ron knew Leo had gone to deliver in the Department of International Magical Cooperation-- that meant that the bins for the other two departments were still downstairs if he could get there first. Moving from the crowded main hallway into a fairly empty auxiliary corridor, Ron stepped up onto the edge of the bin and pushed with his other foot behind him faster and faster until the bin was hurtling along to the lift.

Once he'd reached the Shipping Department, he realized with some dismay that the bin for the Department of Magical Creatures was already gone--Leo must have been back already to take it up. But he grabbed the bin for the Department of Personnel and headed back upstairs.

Personnel was a zero. The only one there to talk to was a crotchety old woman who looked highly suspicious of Ron before he even asked a question. She would give no information about interns whatsoever, then began pressing Ron for his name and his hire date. He decided that would be a good time to leave and deposited all of his parcels on the woman's desk to confuse her somewhat. This apparently wasn't going to be easy.

Checking the map again before setting off for the Shipping Department and another bin, Ron decided to try stopping by the Department of Magical Creatures, hoping to find Leo there-- and sure enough, he heard him inside now. In fact, Leo was in the lobby, embroiled in what seemed to be a rather heated discussion with two people in the portable department fire. Speaking from the flames was the head of an older man with glasses; next to him was the head of a boy perhaps a bit older than Ron who kept his eyes averted sheepishly.

Ron left his bin in the hallway and slipped just inside the door, standing quietly and waiting for Leo to finish his discussion.

I've told him time and again that he must have the parcels shipped directly, the older man said tersely. We haven't time for the potions ingredients to go through Ministry shipping and sit for weeks while the dolphins go without. We're conducting a _study_ here, not a dolphin holiday--But Doctor, Leo protested, it's not his fault--as an intern he's required to follow Ministry regulations--he's doing what he's been instructed to do from here. If he doesn't comply with the guidelines, your site won't be allowed to use Space Dislocation at all. Certainly you wouldn't want to use Muggle mail for such controlled substances.

Ron's ears perked at the word intern'--and this man seemed to be talking in terms of scientific studies with dolphins--perhaps this was where he'd needed to be all along.  
A well-dressed witch stood from her desk where she'd been listening to the conversation and withdrew into some office toward the back of the lobby. The nameplate on her desk said Whose cockamamie idea was this shipping mess, anyway? the older man huffed. I'll need to speak to the Board about this--or even Fudge himself. How can we be expected to run any kind of authentic scientific study without supplies--in the amounts and timeframes that we need them?

A door closed somewhere in the back and an impeccably-dressed wizard with perfect, dark shoulder-length hair and graying temples appeared, seeming to glide across the room toward the conversation in the fire. Ron thought he recognized the wizard from the _Daily Prophet, _but he couldn't recall a name.

Dr. Bridwell, the wizard's smooth, compelling voice poured forth, what _can_ I help you with? I'm sure we can take care of any difficulties you've come across -- and I'm sure you'll agree that Johnston here is a fine addition to your staff as an intern, aside from this little shipping snafu that is none of his doing. Let's talk about this.

Like magic, the smooth-talking wizard managed to draw the wind from Dr. Bridwell's irritated sails and the older man in the fire sighed. Thaddeus -- His voice had gone from a bellow to a near-whine. Can't we manage to find a way to get these potion supplies here sooner? We've tried holding out for them, but it's damned near impossible when our studies are time-sensitive--Don't worry, Clyde, there's an answer we can all be happy with--we simply have to find it--and we will, we will, Thaddeus said in a soothing voice. Suddenly, Thaddeus turned his attention to Leo. Mr. Salomon, I'm sure you're a very busy man who needs to get back to his work. Dr. Bridwell and I will talk this out and advise you of our solution to the problem. Will you be available a bit later?

Leo didn't seem to be as taken with Thaddeus' smooth operations as Dr. Bridwell was. If later' doesn't mean more than an hour and-- he checked his watch, forty minutes.Oh, we should be able to come to an acceptable compromise long before that, Thaddeus assured. He turned back to Dr. Bridwell and his intern, effectively dismissing Leo.

The shipping supervisor shot a narrowed sideways glance at the back of Thaddeus before walking to the empty bin he'd left in the corner. He roughly pushed the bin toward the office lobby door and shot a wondering frown at his helper who was still standing against the wall. Ron shoved the door open and stepped back to let Leo pass.

Ron didn't feel it would be a good idea to interrupt Leo's rather profane muttering at this point, so he simply grabbed his own bin and walked alongside the large man without saying anything. As the two of them entered the lift to descend to Shipping, Leo finally turned to Ron.

Did you need something? he asked grumpily.

I just-- well, I was lost for a bit-- Ron stammered, quickly drumming up a reason, --and I thought I heard your voice in that office--So you did, Leo said. He shook his head. Now Sharpe's going to be coming down here with his special instructions just to mollycoddle that prat Bridwell and we'll have to put up with whatever they decide. If they could just let us do our job...I don't know how that poor intern can stand the man--Which man? Ron asked. Dr. Bridwell or, erm-- Sharpe, is it?Either one of them! Leo boomed.

Ron was beginning to realize that the angrier Leo got over something, the deeper and more resonant his voice became. But Ron was distracted by a much more important thought.

So the interns handle shipping sometimes? Ron questioned tentatively.

Leo answered. When an outpost is too small to have their own shipping clerk, the duties often fall to interns or part-timers, especially for supply orders. That's what happened with Bridwell's mess--and he thought the poor kid was at fault for the whole thing. Why?

Ron shrugged. No reason. Just curious, that's all. But he couldn't help but wonder...

So we have--what--two bins apiece left? Leo asked. You're almost keeping up with me, kid--good job. But this bin's tricky--kind of a mixed bag of deliveries, some of them to a certain person's attention--I'll take it.How can you tell if they're to a certain person? Ron asked.

Special Security Charm the Ministry worked out, Leo explained. Most often we use the department numbers here in the building because it doesn't matter who gets the shipment. But if it goes to someone's special attention, they've worked out a system of disappearing encrypted Runes. They also use the charm for the incoming and outgoing parcels to other sites--that way the person the parcel is intended for gets it right away, even if it's just a shipment of supplies. But they encrypt the names so no one can tell where certain individuals are located for security reasons...Nothing you really have to worry about, though--I'll take care of all of those.

Ron could tell that Leo wasn't just offering to take care of those parcels with charms--the man was insisting-- hence he didn't press the matter. He simply re-arranged and stabilized the parcels in his bin before he left--or so it seemed. Leo probably didn't suspect at all just how closely Ron was listening.


	13. Flaime's Fall and French Faux Pais

_A/N: A hearty thank you to my wonderful beta-readers for their greatly-appreciated assistance once more. Also, this is a gentle reminder that this story is indeed rated **PG-13**, in case that fact had somehow eluded you. Here's hoping you enjoy Chapter 13--perhaps in time for Halloween! NZ  
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Chapter 13  
Flaime's Fall and French _Faux Pas_

Happy birthday, Harry, Hermione said under her breath, ripping the July thirtieth page from Null's desk calendar and tossing it in the wastebin. Remembering what day it was had made her a bit sad, but she had no more time to think about it.

You have everything, Hermione? Dr. Null asked, suddenly sweeping into the room to collect his clipboard and his intern.

I think so, sir, Hermione said, hurriedly scooping up a clipboard of her own and several file folders, along with a quill and some ink. She inconspicuously tried to see if Null had picked up a quill to take with him, but then thought perhaps she'd better take an extra along just in case.

Dr. Null had recovered from his migraine by the morning after her little run-in with Voyde and her men. He hadn't, however, seemed to recover the more relaxed and easygoing personality he'd had when she first came to Trapperton a week ago. At first she'd thought he was angry with her over Starr's unsupervised release, but when she watched him interacting with other people in the camp, he seemed just as irritable and impatient with them. Hermione could tell that something was definitely on his mind--she just didn't know what it was or how serious it might be. Oh, he was still distractable--just that now she was more likely to find a worried frown on his face than a look of pensive wonder.

The other problem was that he was tougher to keep up with--and by the time she'd located a second quill on his desk, he was nearly out of the office room door. She could hear him giving her instructions, since he expected her to be right behind him--but she wasn't close enough to hear what they were. She jogged across the room, hoping to be able to catch up with him.

--should be in the training room by now, Dr. Null was saying, striding along the hallway ahead of her. This is an entirely different situation than you've worked with before--and it's far more dangerous. Up until now, you've worked with the Yeti who have adapted to training well. Today you'll see one of those with the negative behavioral changes we've been studying in the males.I'm sorry, doctor, I didn't hear which of the Yeti you said we'll be working with, Hermione said.

As usual, he didn't appear to hear her. I'm not even sure how he'll take to you--as a female-- being there, Null went on. If I tell you to go, you'll go immediately, with no questions, no protests, nothing. You'll leave your parchments and walk away, all the way to your work station and you'll stay there until I come for you or send other instructions. Do you understand?

She'd never seen Null so all-business before, but there was no doubt he meant what he was saying and expected her to comply. Yes, sir.

Suddenly Null stopped and turned to her just before they entered the training room. You may not like what you see here, Hermione. This male has to be restrained and sometimes subdued with magic. It's for his own protection--and ultimately, to save his life. If we can't start to understand why he displays such aggression toward his own kind, he'll either have to be banished to some isolated area on his own--or he'll end up killing or being killed. We need a record of everything that happens in here today, good or bad--that's why you're here. I can't record and work with him, too. Everything recorded--do you understand?Yes, sir, but-- she tried again, realizing she was missing one crucial piece of information, --which of the Yeti did you say this was?

A loud crash, a man's shout, a scuffling sound, and a deafening, angry-yet-sorrowful Yeti-yell came from the other side of the door.

Null released a deep breath in apparent anticipation of what he was about to face. This is Flaime. He pushed open the door to reveal a far different sight than Hermione was used to finding in the training rooms.

Three handlers pulled chains toward three corners of the room, though Hermione didn't pay immediate attention to which handlers they were. She was too focused on the huge Yeti half-seated, half-slouched in the chair whose angry dark gray eyes swung almost uncannily to her face and bored straight into hers.

Look down, Hermione! Look down! Dr. Null hissed.

Hermione did so, reading the urgency in his voice, then immediately remembered something she'd read in one of the Yeti books Dr. Null had loaned her. She'd meant to ask him about it, because it was difficult to believe the issue could still exist, judging from the Yeti she'd already met.

Female subservience? Hermione whispered as she stood frozen, staring at the floor.

Yes. Damn, I forgot to remind you! Dr. Null replied. It was instinct--he knew you were a female the instant you entered--and he was testing. The only females allowed to look straight into a Yeti's eyes are those that belong to him. Any other female can be killed for doing so--and the males will never forget. _They_ know you're of a different species, but we're not going to assume that it makes enough difference to them.

Both of the Yeti's long, furry arms and one foot were shackled; Flaime's arms were pulled behind him and one foot was held off the ground. Still, the one unshackled leg swung out time and again, kicking at the large table that was ordinarily used for the more civilized' Yeti to sequence their diary sentences.

Keeping her eyes down, Hermione slinked along the wall until she reached the shelf on the wall behind the table; she slipped the folders and clipboard onto the corner of the shelf so she could quickly set up her quill and ink and start writing.

Dr. Null approached the chair where they usually sat to monitor the Yeti building their diary sentences; it was only a few feet away and in front of where Hermione had positioned herself. He sat down and stared quietly, but intensely at Flaime for what seemed like a number of minutes. Mumbling under his breath, Dr. Null began talking calmly in Hermione's direction. Write this down. Flaime is a fifty-four year old male in his reproductive prime...appears to be in good health, eyes are bright and focused, coat is thick and shiny, no apparent excretions from eyes, nose, mouth or ears. Teeth are--

Just then, Null bared his own teeth and made some strange head-gesture at the Yeti. The gesture must have held some Yeti meaning, for Flaime stopped squirming in his chair and yanking at his chains to focus on Null. Eyes leveled on the zoolowizard, Flaime repeated the identical teeth-baring gesture that Null had performed.

Without moving his gaze one iota from the Yeti, Null continued -- Teeth appear to be in good condition. Response time to challenge gesture excellent, which means attentiveness strong. Suddenly Null snapped his gaze to the floor to break the stare-down, which apparently ended the challenge gesture and freed the Yeti to move on to other thoughts as well.

Flaime began to squirm and pull at his chains once more, jerking the handlers back to reality after watching the stare-down themselves.

How's his appetite? Any changes since his arrival? Null asked the handlers.

Eats like a graphorn, Hank replied. Actually--take that back--more likely he'd want to _eat_ a graphorn. The handler snorted at his own joke. Get everything they want, these animals--hard to imagine why they're so damned ornery.If the_ Yeti_ -- Dr. Null emphasized their species name versus Hank's classification of them as animals', --were getting everything necessary, there'd be no need for all of this in-fighting between them. We're certain that _all_ of their basic needs are being met? I mean, I'm sure Dr. Voyde has instructed all of you on procedure, but is there any chance that it's not being checked on often enough? Perhaps she hasn't had time to follow up with your people as much as she'd like what with the other research and all.Oh no, Hank insisted. They're gettin' everything, believe me.

Dr. Null persisted for some reason. It's just strange...I think I'll make arrangements to stay in the habitat a night or two--

The handler in the farthest corner interrupted quickly. Dr. Voyde has strict rules about that-- she says it messes up those behavior patterns she studies when there are changes. That even includes letting someone new into the habitat.Well, I'm hardly new--and the Yeti all know me--it's not as if I'm some stranger, Null said.

Hank shook his head. You can check with Dr. Voyde, Doc, but I think she'll say no. Besides, it's too dangerous out there at night--you never know how these animals'll react.We'll see about that later then, I suppose, Null said, apparently giving in for the moment when he noticed Flaime getting more agitated with impatience. Do you have any lacerations, punctures, bite marks, or apparent bruises to report for Flaime?No, none here, Doctor, Ulav replied, but glanced nervously at the next handler over as he said it.

During the time that Null had been talking with the handlers and while Flaime was distracted, Hermione had been visually inspecting the Yeti after pausing in taking her notes. He was definitely one of the larger creatures she'd seen so far--and there was no doubt why he associated himself with a flame. His tufted, semi-matted fur held a deep reddish tone, much like the color of a firelog that had just dwindled from full flame to glowing coals. Proportioned much like an enormous upright gorilla, it was easy to see why he might be inclined to challenge any male in the habitat, since he appeared to be very muscular and have great upper body strength. At least the handlers seemed to be having a time of it in controlling him three-on-one.

Sir, is that--? Hermione whispered. As Flaime had twisted in his chair to face the windows and snarl at the two handlers on that side of him, she saw a well-defined, darkened, and more matted ridge in his fur, cutting across the center of his upper back and over one shoulder blade.

Dr. Null asked tersely.

Is that a -- cut across his back? Hermione continued, peering intensely at the ridge she had spotted.

Null gave her a questioning look and she pointed to where she'd been staring.

Null called.

Hermione's eyes widened at the name, but she tried to cover her recognition. She watched as the handler in the opposite corner looked away from his charge and over at Dr. Null in response.

What is that there on his back? There--where there's that sort of matted ridge of fur.

Sloane looked either as if he didn't understand what Null what talking about or that he didn't want to say, but Hermione couldn't immediately determine which it was.

The handler took a step closer to the Yeti and squinted at the creature's back, though he was still a good ten feet away, trying to keep the chain on Flaime's left arm taut. I don't see nothin', sir.

Null looked perplexed. There, Sloane--across his upper back and his right shoulder blade. Why is his fur all matted in a rough line like that?

Sloane seemed irritated that Null hadn't accepted his initial assessment. Don't have a clue, Doctor. Surely Dr. Voyde woulda mentioned to you if there was some problem with 

Null frowned. I suppose so, but what if it's just happened? Do you know when Flaime's last physical assessment was?

Sloane sighed and made a meaningful glance toward Ulav. Don't rightly remember, Doc, we do so many of them. He stepped back into his original position as if that was the end of the conversation.

Then do me a favor, Sloane, Null said persistently. Are the other two strong enough to hold Flaime while you get a bit closer and see if you can make a better assessment?

Sloane rolled his eyes and grimaced, but indicated to Ulav and Hank to pull up the slack in their chains and prepare for him to release his line. To Hermione, it felt like Null's request had been almost as much of a male challenge to Sloane as the teeth-baring had been to Flaime.

Apparently feeling the adjustment in the tension on the chains and seeming to sense someone moving toward him from behind, Flaime squirmed even more in his chair, trying to figure out which of the handlers was missing. The Yeti angled his body such that he could use the two remaining taut chains as an axis; Flaime managed to push off with his free foot and flip his torso in mid-air. The instant he saw Sloane moving up on him, wand at the ready just in case, his thinly-veiled aggression appeared...

...and Flaime disappeared.

the handlers yelled, grunting and straining in vain at chains that seemed to whip through thin air. Null awkwardly drew his wand and bolted upright from his seat, frantically scanning the room for any sign of a purple halo. It was obvious he had no idea where to direct any spell that could stop the Yeti now. The chair that had been under Flaime tipped, fell and skidded across the floor.

The sounds of snarling and snapping rang through thin air. Sloane froze and looked around in panic. From the sidelines, they all watched in horror as some invisible force knocked Sloane's wand from his hand, grabbed his arm, and violently wrenched it from its socket. The man's agonized scream was only interrupted by further wails when bite marks appeared like magic on the side of his head, his neck, then his ribs. Suspended in mid-air, his other arm snapped in one, two, three places, the puncture marks of sharp teeth setting rapidly spreading circles of blood seeping through the handler's shirt. Sloane's body was swept high into the air and the screams went on until he was hurled toward the floor with amazing force. Then the screaming stopped.

Horrified and stunned into dropping their chains, Hank and Ulav drew wands that were almost immediately slapped to the floor; the wands disappeared instantly.

Null whispered behind him, apparently finally able to form the words.

Her back pressed against the wall, Hermione edged her way toward the door. But the havoc continued.

As if an invisible tornado had been unleashed indoors, a trash bin flying through space narrowly missed Ulav as he crouched against the far wall. Cards flew from the walls along with their racks and fell in strange patterns from the air. The training table in front of Null was overturned and smashed; luckily, Dr. Null had stepped back and was rummaging in a box behind him with one hand, no longer in his original position.

The purple halo moved so swiftly through the room they could barely see it. In fact, they all seemed to have lost sight of it completely by the time Hermione was almost in front of the closed door. It was then she felt the leathery palm cover the bottom half of her face. She could feel, but see nothing in front of her, and four rough, jaggedly pointed Yeti claws pressed hard into the tender skin just beneath her jaw line. She froze.

Whimpering a bit for fear that a shout would be the death of her, Hermione felt her chin being angled upward. She remembered Null's warning about not looking at Flaime directly though she had no idea where not to look, and her eyes ached from the effort of trying to keep them aimed at the floor while her face was tilted upward. Finally, she closed them altogether, but the sight her mind threw at her then forced her to open them once more. Without knowing what Flaime's intentions were, Hermione had suddenly imagined the sharpest points of the Yeti fingernails piercing her skin and hooking her jawbone like one would hook a fish.

By the door! Null whispered to the two remaining handlers, pointing as they stood upright from their crouched positions in far corners of the room. Then he turned to Hermione and spoke softly. Don't move; don't make a sound, Hermione. Just blink to answer--if you know the answer--once for yes, twice for no. He's in front of you, not behind or on the side, right?

Hermione blinked hard once. She could hear Flaime's hard breathing after his tantrum and feel his hot breath on the top of her head. He had flinched at the first sound of Null's voice, but was still now.

I can see him pressing your head up--keep your eyes down, that's right-- don't challenge him, don't move for your wand. You were in his way as he tried to get out--I thought he was too frantic to think that fast, Null said, sounding as if he was trying to be soothing. He's not like Starr--can't understand us much, but I'm not going to say his name just in case. I'm trying to figure out where to direct a spell without hitting you. Can you feel him touching you anywhere else--pressure on your arms, your legs?

Hermione blinked again, twice.

Dr. Null moved slowly and silently so that he faced her almost directly. She watched his feet since she dared not look up and guessed that he was visually scanning the air toward the high ceiling, apparently still searching for the vague shadow of a purple halo.

_Petrificus To--_

There was sudden movement behind the enormous furry hand that had control of her face. Null's spell had ended before it was begun and her view of his shoes was replaced with the sight of his entire body sliding across the floor, propelled by a forceful blow from the huge being in front of her. But apparently Flaime had more interest in getting out than in doing more harm to Null, so his movements again ceased.

Hermione wondered why he hadn't just killed her yet, for that matter--or thrown her out of his way. Perhaps the Yeti was considering taking her hostage; perhaps he was less interested in hurting her than in figuring out what he would do next. The longer he stood in wait, the more encouraged she was that her life would be spared.

Null was back up again, limping, but holding some strange, huge syringe contraption near his feet so she could see it. Tranquilizer -- he did away with our wands, so now we're down to the basics. Reach very slowly to the doorknob about a foot from your left hand. When I say Now!' turn it, fall away from him through the door, and get down that hallway as fast as you can. Hopefully his reflexes won't be quick enough by then to grab you again. Understand?

Hermione blinked again once, so hard that a tear of pure tension slipped from the corner of her eye. Flaime's heavy breathing above her had slowed and his hand on her face had relaxed somewhat, but she knew she had no other option than to follow Dr Null's instructions.

Chains, gentlemen-- she heard Null say quietly to Hank and Ulav, --do what you can. Ready with that doorknob, Hermione?

Slowly, slowly, she edged her fingertips toward the doorknob and jiggled it, feeling its cold metal hardness in her hand. Chains clinked softly and she heard Null sliding up closer behind Flaime. She blinked once again to let Null know she was ready.

A slow, tense breath escaped from Null-- she could hear it-- apparently this wasn't the part of creature research he was fondest of. Five seconds, Hermione-- just so you'll be ready. It might as well have been five hours. he yelled.

Hermione squeezed and cranked the doorknob as hard as she could, feeling it click and the support behind her fall away. She knew she had to fall almost straight back so that she didn't slide down and impale her chin on those claws. A few feet away Null grunted with the extreme exertion of driving the tranquilizer syringe deep into the invisible Yeti, who released a low yelp so loud that she felt it through the floor. Chains chinked into tension and Flaime began to thrash about--the hand was gone from her face but a huge knee drove into her ribs, nearly knocking the wind from her entirely. Strangely, before she hit the floor, the Yeti in front of her began to materialize; as the tranquilizer began to take hold, it diminished his ability to stay invisible. But it also diminished his ability to stay upright.

Before she could catch her breath, untangle her feet, and get past the now-open door between her and the empty hallway, she looked up and realized she might not make it. Flaime was beginning to swoon, his great head falling forward, his eyes starting to glaze over. Almost on reflex and without thinking about the fact that she shouldn't be looking him in the eyes, she searched for his face straight above her and saw an injured, vulnerable expression there, not the fear-inspiring rage that she expected. He looked more like a hurt animal himself than one who was hell-bent on hurting her. Shaking his head as if to clear it and focus on the girl on the floor below him, Flaime reached toward her with his one loose arm. 

Hermione thought she should feel afraid; certainly five minutes ago she would have been terrified. But now that she'd seen that look on his face and the vulnerability in his eyes, she knew she had nothing to fear from the Yeti himself. On the other hand, the thought of a seven-hundred pound creature falling on top of her as dead weight could definitely be a problem.

But Flaime's arm reached across his own body to her shoulder, wrapped around her side and pushed her entire body down the hallway with a force she didn't think possible from a tranquilized creature. She slid on her hip down the waxed floor for at least ten meters before her momentum slowed--and before she looked back to see the huge Yeti fall on the spot of floor where she'd just been with a thud that shook the building.

_He pushed me out of harm's way,_ she thought in awe. _He understood his weight could hurt me, and even when he was afraid for himself, he pushed me out of the way._

She stood slowly, tugging at her clothes to adjust them while staring at the unmoving form of the magnificent, enormous creature now blocking the hallway. Not until she saw Dr. Null and the handlers scramble over the Yeti's hindquarters into the corridor did she snap from her reverie.

First scanning the hallway in the opposite direction, then back toward her, Dr. Null ran to her side. You all right? he asked breathlessly.

Hermione felt under her chin to be sure it wasn't the shock talking, but then she nodded. Perfectly. Dr. Null, he-- he pushed me out of the way.Thank the heavens you're safe. Sloane's still breathing-- the handlers are in with him now, stabilizing him magically-- Null said, then furrowed his brow as if finally understanding her words. He-- who? What?Flaime -- he pushed me down here--all the way down here --when he saw he was going to fall on me, she explained.

Null looked confused. You didn't run?No, I couldn't--I couldn't get up in time. The door blocked one way out and he blocked the other. So he reached down and pushed me--out of harm's way.

Null smiled a bit, but Hermione sensed it was in a somewhat patronizing way. I'm really glad you're all right-- I am. But, Hermione-- that Yeti just destroyed a man in there--I should never have had Sloane release the chain. He's still alive, but he'll be healing for a very long time, if he ever heals completely. It's not likely an enraged Yeti is going to try and save any of wizardkind unless perhaps it's some individual he's known for a long time. Yet it's a nice thought--there aren't many of our kind that have so much faith in other creatures.

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but she really didn't have any proof except for an unexplainable sense of that look in Flaime's eyes. In fact, it was a look she'd seen before, but not in a Yeti. _Where **did **I see that before?_

Are you all right by yourself now? Dr. Null asked.

Hermione nodded and looked back toward Flaime, noting that a number of other people had appeared on the run by now, including Dr. Voyde with her medical emergency kit (she doubled as the site's mediwitch as well). They all crawled over Flaime's legs and disappeared swiftly through the training room door.

What will happen to Flaime? Hermione asked, a bit afraid of the answer.

Dr. Null shrugged. I'm not sure. He'll be sedated for a few days and probably held in one of the soc labs by himself. We'll have to compile his records and meet to decide if we can let him back in the habitat with the others--or if we can allow him to be among humans again. It's sad, too-- we were only trying to help him get past this aggression.But--you'll have someone check that wound on his back, won't you?Of course, Null said. It did look rather serious. That certainly could have contributed to his agitation. We should be able to get a good look before he wakes up.

Hermione wasn't sure whether to bring it up again or not, but in defense of Flaime, she did. Did you-- ever get a chance to check out what Starr said about Sloane?

Dr. Null looked a bit thoughtful. That _was_ Sloane mixed up in that mess, wasn't it? Hmmm--no I haven't worked with her yet, but I think I may want to do that before we make any final decision about Flaime's future.

Hermione watched as Dr. Null turned and walked back to the door of the training room. Just as he approached Flaime, two of the handlers emerged from the room with Sloane's now-moaning and bandaged body in tow under a Mobilus Spell.

Dr. Voyde exited the room as well and the two zoologists began to speak heatedly about something, though they used hushed voices and pointed at Flaime from time to time. Since the handlers were coming her way down the hall, Hermione decided to return to her work station to take a breather and catch up on a report that Dr. Null had earlier asked her to complete.

She wasn't sure she wanted to hear what any of them had to say anyway.

Later that evening Hermione sat at the tiny desk in her cabin and found herself with time to ponder the fact that today was one of her best friends' birthdays--and how odd it felt to be so out-of-touch with him.

She had never been officially _with_ Harry on his birthday--but she had always been able to owl him and have him return word to her about his gifts and his day. Today was the first exception to those birthdays since she'd known him.

It had been not only two days, as the owl post had been running regularly with her parents for some odd reason, but three since she'd owled the boys. Hermione had owled Ron with both his and Harry's letters three days before Harry's birthday, hoping to have their return owl come on the thirtieth so that she could send an owl directly to Harry on the thirty-first. But the return owl never came--from either of them.

The boys were occasionally remiss in returning her letters promptly--especially Ron. But she had really hoped that once they received word from her from Trapperton, especially after all of the ruckus Ron had made about her being out of touch--that they might be anxious to let her know they were pleased to get her correspondence. She decided to try one more time.

It was Harry's birthday--perhaps he'd been too busy to write (though unless things had changed drastically there, she couldn't imagine what kind of birthday celebrations at Privet Drive would keep him from scratching out a quick letter). But so as not to spoil his birthday, she would give Harry the benefit of the doubt and send birthday greetings to him, even if they were belated. To Ron, for not responding after harassing her so, and for possibly not forwarding Harry's letter, she would simply send a short, terse note filled with a good piece of her mind.

She'd given them specific directions on which days they might expect owl posts from her and which days they should return post. They were never very happy about being told exactly what to do and at what time. Perhaps they had been put off by thinking this was only more of the ridiculous attention to detail they often teased her about. Maybe they were irritated that she'd originally thought she wouldn't be able to contact them at all.

But one thing she knew for certain. She missed them both desperately and at that moment she would have given most anything to be able to discuss with them, even by post, some of the worrisome events that were taking place at Trapperton. Hermione didn't want to write anything to her parents about how serious her internship had become; she knew how concerned they would be. But Harry and Ron would understand, though it's true they might worry and Ron might jump at the chance to say I told you so. At least she would have the comfort of knowing that, as it had been for nearly five years, the three of them shared their worries and did what they could to help one another get through the tough parts.

A lone dog barking somewhere in the distance only served to make her melancholy mood darker. Sighing deeply, she assured herself that if she had ever taken her friendship with Harry and Ron for granted in the past, that it would never, ever happen again.

Ron yawned and reached over to the log book to write in the dimensions of the large box in front of him._ This deal of working full-time can get tiring rather quickly,_ he thought. _And someone like Dad works even more than that, what with the unpaid Ministry overtime and the Order business-- no wonder the man sleeps like a rock._

Of course, Ron's own version of overtime might have been less stressful, but certainly required no less time. He had spent many hours at home after work in the five days since he'd started working with Leo, either trying to figure out which parts he needed next for the motorbike or trying to correctly install the parts he'd already managed to earn.

Not to mention the one evening early on that his mum had come to search him out, thinking that he was still trying to organize everything in the shed. Ron had heard someone enter and, thinking it was his father coming to check up on his progress with the motorbike, he yelled cheerfully, Back here!

That had been two days ago, but he still clearly remembered the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach when he heard his mother squeal from near the front doors on her way through the enormous room. Ron, you've done a wonderful job, dear! Why, it must be all done! What else could you possibly be--

And there had been nowhere to run. Her delighted, cooing voice had stopped dead the instant she saw him standing there, hands covered in motorbike oil and holding parts and wrenches, parchments with assembly diagrams spread all around him on any flat surface that would hold them. Next to him stood a motorbike that was beginning to hold the definite promise of being able to run, even fly one day soon-- Godric willing and the key be found.

Molly Weasley gasped so deeply that he would have sworn she sucked all the oxygen from the room--at least, he knew _he_ was having trouble finding the means to breathe. She started to slump and Ron thought quickly enough to shove an old plastic crate beneath her before she sat, looking rather woozy indeed.

Ron swallowed hard, once, twice -- it was enough to barely croak out, Mum-- let me explain. _Dad, where are you when I need you most?_

Apparently she had remarkable recovery abilities because all the air she'd sucked in was spit out in that one accusation--or well, maybe that and the next one. _You! And your FATHER--!_

Ron was definitely thinking by now that this didn't look good. She was so angry she could barely speak--and that had _never _happened before that he knew of. But Dad was in on it too, poor bloke--at least he wouldn't hang alone.

I should have _known_ that cursed motorbike would show up here! she growled. She turned her piercing stare to her son's somewhat fearful eyes. How long?

Ron hated having to do maths under pressure--especially when he was tired. Uh--erm-- a while--Don't tell me it's been here longer than a week or two, she ordered.

_Damn! Another one of those trick questions! _It was at times like this he wished he had Hermione's abilities with words instead of his own. There was no way he wanted to tell his mum it had been here longer than that if she didn't want to hear it--but if he didn't, he'd be lying, and if he got caught lying...He felt beads of sweat pop out on his forehead and one ran down into his left eye, stinging badly and causing him to now face impending doom with only one eye fully open.

a deep voice called from the front of the shed.

Ron released a huge sigh. _Thank God! _At least he wouldn't be dead before reinforcements arrived. Back here, Dad!Oh--what a relief! Arthur said loudly as he headed through the huge room himself. I was trying to find your mum and Ginny said she was headed this way--

Ron's eyes widened (even the one that stung) and he stared across the room, trying to catch his father's attention. He realized there was no way his father would have been able to see his short, seated little mum beyond the stacks of items on the surrounding tables. He found himself very afraid for his father--and his father's next words.

...so I was worried that she-- Arthur continued, now only some ten meters away.

Worried about _what,_ dear? Molly interrupted, standing and turning slowly to face her husband. How sweet of you to be so worried about _me!_

  
Although Ron was secretly relieved that he wasn't the only one to ever be on the receiving end of that sugary-deadly tone of voice, he now found himself more concerned with the state of his father's health. The man was more pale than Sir Nicholas and stood there with his mouth opening and closing like a beached codfish.

The ensuing discussion between the three of them had been an education in itself for Ron. He discovered that if you used a calm, soothing voice, lots of flattery and good reason, and ended your explanation with the words think how wonderful it would be for Harry that it would take you a long way with an irate woman. Furthermore, Ron would be forever indebted to his dad for letting him almost completely off the hook by telling her, --and Ron thought of this for him--wasn't that a perfectly lovely idea?

The grim set of her mouth now softened a bit. Molly looked from her husband to her son several times as if teetering on some proverbial fence, then with a sigh she passed her final judgment. That was a lovely idea, Ron. But how in the world are you going to pay for the repairs and all of those--things--that you need?

This time Ron was off, words about his chance meeting with Leo gushing from his mouth like water trying to escape from the hideous Ministry fountain--and the fact that he actually had to_ work_ to earn the money for parts? Well, after a year of fretting about Fred and George, no finer words could have graced his mother's ears. Of course, she'd been aware that Ron had been helping someone out' at the Ministry for the few days he had gone to work with his dad, but she had no idea of the scope of his labors.

By the end, his mum had even reached over, wiped an oily smudge from his cheek and left him a quick kiss there. He was nearly encouraged enough to chance asking for his Cleansweep back. 

Well then, Arthur, let's allow Ron to get back to work. Don't stay out here much longer, dear-- you have work in the morning, you know, she cooed to her son.

Ron looked at his father's beaming smile on the far side of his mum's face. But when Molly turned to her husband, Arthur's beam quickly disappeared along with all of Ron's thoughts regarding his broomstick.

Pointing up into her husband's face, Molly's horrifying growl was back. _ You_-- I'm not through with! Let's go into the house and you can explain to me again just _how_ that motorbike got here in the first place!

The two of them had stood and walked away then, Arthur insistently urged along by his wife's arm looped through his. At one point he looked forlornly back at Ron, who silently mouthed the words Good luck to his father.

Picking out another package to measure for shipment, Ron smiled to himself. On their way to work the next day, he had asked his father how things had turned out with Mum.

Arthur had shrugged. She'll be fine. I have to work on her a little more--but she'll be fine.

From the twinkle in his father's eye, Ron knew that his mum would indeed be fine' and it made him wonder just what sort of spell, magical or otherwise, his father had managed to cast over her to defuse all that anger. _ Hmmm...I need to learn that, whatever it is...might be something really useful on Hermione sometimes..._

Leo's irritated voice rang out nearby, seeming even louder because the room was a bit emptier than it had been a few days before. 

As Leo approached where he stood, Ron couldn't help but snigger at the sight before him. The wide shipping supervisor was stomping his way across the department, followed by a seemingly endless line of envelopes and tiny packages. The line snaked its way at eye level from just behind Leo's head back through all of the twists and turns that Leo had made to get through the room from Piddle's tiny Owl Room.

Can you believe this? These were all waitin' for him, hovering there in his little room until I walked in and discovered them all packed inside. Here, he said, flipping a small cube-shaped package to Ron. Goes to Ms. Latot, French Consulate. Throw it in the mixed personals bin for this afternoon, will you?Yeah, sure-- no problem, Ron answered.

Leo scanned the area, apparently for any sign of the loafing little wizard. If you ever see Dementors headed this way, Ron, Leo said in exasperation, it'll be because I've finally gone and killed him. --_Piddle!_

Ron laughed as Leo continued his search toward the back of the room, muttering under his breath.

_Good,_ Ron thought, _that'll keep him busy for a little while longer._ Leo had treated Ron so well that he felt badly deceiving him just a little. _But it's for a good cause..._ Ron thought _ ...and I can't exactly explain that I need to know how to use his classified spell so that I can take a million to one chance on finding some intern who apparently still doesn't want to be found._

Ron really had thought that perhaps once Hermione got settled into her position and re-evaluated their parting argument that she might come to her senses and have the decency to write him once. If nothing else, she should have written to Harry simply because Harry hadn't picked a fight with her at the very last moment and he deserved better. As far as Ron knew, Harry hadn't even heard from her directly on his birthday, which was quite unlike Hermione--or else, the Hermione they'd known in the past. Harry had told him in this morning's letter that she had prepared a gift and arranged for her parents to send it such that it would arrive on the proper day-- but that hardly counted as correspondence. That was just Hermione and her finely-tuned day-planner at work.

He'd gone so far as to consider writing to Hermione's parents and asking how _(and where!)_ she was. He knew the Grangers would be extremely nice and helpful and considerate--they always were (_sometimes much more so than Hermione, _he thought). But each of the several times he'd sat down to start their letter, something had felt just a little too awkward.

Of course the Grangers knew all three of them were friends. But he didn't want them to start thinking that his urgent interest in her whereabouts was anything more than friendly--at least not yet--not her _parents._ After all, Harry was indeed concerned about her, but Ron realized he might have exaggerated just a bit when he'd told his mum and Hermione that Harry was just as frantic--erm, worried-- about her as he was.

Forwarding a letter to Hermione through her parents had been another option. But he assumed they already knew that she hadn't written anything to him. If he wrote to her first it would be just a little too humiliating, especially when she was the one who decided to take off instead of spend the summer with him.

So he was back to looking at the only way he could think of to find her: keep checking boxes and keep checking offices. Her name had to be out there somewhere.

_Speaking of that... _Ron looked down suspiciously at the small package in his hands. _From France? Addressed to the French Consulate?_ Hermione had been to France before, he remembered--with her parents. In fact, she even liked that stuff the house-elves had made for the Beauxbatons students in fourth year-- _that booya--buya-- that stew where they just chucked the clams and mussels in, shells and all, straight from the rocks. Ergh!_

But could she be in France? Making that spell work and checking every single box and parcel would be the only way to find out. Ron looked back to the last place he had seen Leo disappear into the stacks of boxes, then he made his own way into a darkened aisle between the parcels. Turning the box in his hands until he saw the scrawly geometric figures of the encryption runes in a small neat line, he held up his wand.

_Paresco Escondidum! _Nothing happened except that his wand hand stopped, unable to move, halfway through the spell. Apparently that wasn't it, though he knew that last word was what Leo had used. He thought about what the words should have been, considering the nature of the charm.

_Parecesco Escondidum! _Squinting at the small figures in the dim light, Ron saw movement in the scrawly lines--yes! Something was happening; the person's name was becoming clearer. But it was too dark--he still couldn't tell what it said. So he moved farther out toward the center aisle where there was more light. _Let's see... _He gasped. The address was morphing into letters--the one that was supposed to read or --whatever it was that Leo had said. But he'd done something terribly wrong. The letters on the box now said:

totaL idioT .sM :oT

He'd completely reversed the lettering with the spell--and of course, with his luck, it had turned out to read something like that--

_No, no, no... _Ron flicked his wand repeatedly at the address, hoping the letters would change their minds and decide to settle differently.

Ron! Hey, Wissle!

_Gah! _ It was Leo, looking for him--and he wasn't supposed to be trying that spell. _Think! Think! _Ron shoved the tiny box between two very large ones and promised himself he'd remember to come back as soon as he could--he certainly couldn't send it upstairs that way.

Leo said as Ron emerged from behind the stack of boxes into the center aisle, can you believe what the little worm told me? Said he was upstairs delivering a few letters someone asked him to hold back. Ha! Piddle? What a crock! You'd think he'd learn how stupid it sounds for him to imply he was actually doing some work.Yeah, I think you have a point there, Ron said, hoping he wasn't acting at all suspicious.

There they go, Leo said, pointing to the floating line of letters and packages that had been following him, now winding their way into the Owl Room behind the little old wizard that could barely be seen. That oughtta keep him busy--and awake-- for awhile. Ron agreed.

Leo looked at his watch. Well-- break for lunch in forty-five?Sounds good to me, Ron said, wishing Leo would leave so he could remedy his mis-spelling'. He watched as Leo finally turned and walked back to see what was going on in the Space Dislocation Room.

As soon as he was out of sight, Ron rushed back into the darkened aisle where he'd left the package. What _was_ it Leo had said with that spell? Maybe he'd missed the first syllable--a vowel maybe? _Eparecesco? Oparecesco? Aparecesco? Apar--appear? Yes, that should be it!_

Holding the box aloft with his wand pointed at the, erm, bad address, Ron tried again.

_Aparecesco Escondidum!_

Swiftly, the letters began to vibrate, then the connective lines began to pull apart and re-form themselves.

Come on, come on... Ron whispered under his breath, staring at the squirming lines. Finally they fell into place and he let out a big sigh of relief. Who would _name_ their kid something like that? Strange sense of humor... he said to himself, shaking his head and walking to the mixed personals' bin that Leo usually delivered in the afternoons.

He looked once more at the address before him just to make sure he hadn't been seeing things and that the spell had settled. But sure enough, there it was:

To: Ms. Toidi Latot  
French Consulate  
Office of the Ministry of Magic  
London, UK

Satisfied, he tossed the box for Ms. Latot into the bin.


	14. A Shout in the Dark

_A/N: ...And to think my amazing betas** Christina Teresa, Seakays, **and **sunshyndaisies **do this all out of the goodness of their hearts. Aren't they wonderful? You know I think so! And just for the record- a bit of a shippy chapter coming up after this- they're not **quite** together yet, but that doesn't mean there can't be shipping in absentia. Absence makes the heart' and all... :)   
Happy (long) reading! NZ_

****

Chapter 14

A Shout in the Dark

Hermione jerked awake and stared straight ahead into the darkness. Her heart was pounding and she breathed as shallowly as she could manage, listening...

The Yeti howl was terrified and terrifying, simultaneously waking her and chilling her to the bone in spite of the sultry heat of the summer night.

But she didn't hear it again-or anything else for that matter-only the chirping of the crickets in their ceaseless rhythm broke the silence. Perhaps it had only been that nightmare again...

She'd slept fitfully the past two nights since the encounter with Flaime. It wasn't so much that she was recalling her short-lived fear of the Yeti that day, but that there'd been a general uneasiness about the camp since then, and it was growing steadily stronger. Sitting up, she reached to the bedside table and picked up a glass of water, hoping a deep draught would somehow calm her nerves enough to get a few hours of sleep tonight.

For the most part, her activities had been achingly normal the past few days-she had worked with Starr and Leif, compiled Null's reports, recorded his Yeti sessions when asked, distributed the mail, and ordered supplies from the Ministry. With the possible exception of the handlers, who appeared a bit strained after Sloane's departure to St. Mungo's, everyone acted for the most part the same with one another as they had a week ago.

But there was no avoiding the palpable tension in the air-and she sensed the Yeti felt it too...

Scooting down under the covers, Hermione squirmed until she found a comfortable position and nuzzled her face into the pillow. Thankfully, she was so exhausted that once her mind and body calmed it wouldn't take long to get back to sleep...she was nearly there already...

Then like a dagger rending new canvas, the second howl ripped through the empty silence. Immediately her heart resumed its frantic pounding once it descended from her throat; she bolted upright in bed, knowing full well that this time it was not her subconscious mind playing nightmarish tricks on her. The new howl was followed quickly by another from a different Yeti, then by several answering cries from other points in the habitat. The first two howls were bold and aggressive, the answering cries more lamenting and sorrowful. But there was no doubt in her mind that something was amiss outside the encampment fences.

Her ears perked at another sound. There was movement on the far side of the camp-faint smacks and bangs, brushes and a dragging sound near the lab building. Chains rattled and one set of the enormous double gates banged open or shut, though it was impossible to tell which at this distance. She knew she was too far away to hear distinct voices, but she could hear occasional shouts along with the sounds of people walking and working.

Her nerves had been on edge to start- her lack of sleep and the isolation had magnified the problem. Being twice brought back from the verge of sleep tonight had impaired her sensibilities even more and although her normally infallible sense of reason was still telling her she was safe, her gut-level reaction was fear.

Hermione considered getting up and going to the window, but she knew she was too far away and behind too many obstacles to see anything on the far side of the camp. She could tell from the narrow shafts of light shooting into the room in splinters from around the edge of her window blinds that the enormous flood lamps in the middle of the compound had been lit. She wondered what kind of serious circumstances had prompted such an action.

Light...more light in here will help... Hermione told herself logically, pulling her wand from the bedside table and turning to reach for the candle she'd snuffed out earlier. Finding its waxy solidness by touch alone, she tilted it so that her wand would aim point blank at the wick. 

The candle sprang into flame and lit the room with a faint, even glow. It gave her some comfort to be able to see a bit more, but unfortunately it didn't stop the outside sounds from seeping through the walls. Trying to ignore the fact that all of her senses seemed focused on what she could hear in the camp and beyond, it occurred to her that she wouldn't be going back to sleep very soon.

New sounds broke into the chorus of bangs and rustles that she'd heard so far-but these sounds were definitely not human. Yips and whines were barely audible, but they were on the move-coming closer and moving in what seemed to be some great arc surrounding the point where her cabin lay. They became louder and she found herself hearing low growls and panting and the furious muffled patter of padded feet- feet that were running-running in a pack...For whatever reason, they had released the dogs.

She had known from early in her stay here that there were guard dogs kept in the compound somewhere, but she had yet to see any of them-or even hear them more than a handful of times. While the zoologists and the handlers spoke in hushed tones about how they were to be used only on those bad nights,' she had yet to understand how they could be kept so quiet.

But not tonight-which led her to believe this had become one of those bad nights' at some point-and the thought of what that might mean made her shiver. Drawing her knees up and hugging them close, she found herself hoping that this protective action would somehow hold out the eerie creepiness that wouldn't leave her alone.

Deep, booming barks broke out between the frenzied running and panting and Hermione was reminded of what those double fences around the main camp were all about. The dogs had been released between the inner and outer rings of fencing-they were meant to patrol the area between where the humans tried to safely find a few hours of sleep and where some possibly frightful occurrence was taking place among the Yeti.

Though she could see no magical reason to support her fear, she suddenly doubted the effectiveness of the Security Spell on her cabin. That, and another thought prodding her mind caused her to hug her knees yet tighter and rock herself for comfort, whispering It was only a name, and not a very pretty one, but for some reason she needed the comfort it brought tonight.

Another fierce Yeti yell echoed through the camp.

The idea worming itself into her mind probably should have made her feel safer, but somehow it only chilled her more. Those dogs surrounding the camp and patrolling to make certain that some possibly crazed Yeti was kept out-also made certain that there'd be no chance of easy escape for the humans held within.

Judging from the fact that she suddenly heard her alarm clock going off, Hermione decided she must have fallen asleep sometime during the early morning, but it certainly didn't feel like it and it couldn't have been for very long. Her head ached from the tension of all that had occurred in the night and as she attempted to stretch her limbs, she found them to be stiff and achy from having been held tense and curled tightly to her.

After splashing her face endlessly with cold water, which did little to help wash away the drowsiness, Hermione dressed and headed for the commons. _ Perhaps some tea will help..._she thought. Expecting the usual emptiness in the room as she opened the door to the dining area, she was surprised to find it much more active and populated than normal. 

A number of the handlers sat at one table with Dr. Voyde; as usual, Carl was sitting by her side and doing a good amount of the talking at the table. Unshaven and with dark patches beneath their eyes, all of the handlers looked as though they had had a very rough night, though Hermione could see no obvious injuries of any kind.

Although it was far past the hour that Dr. Null considered early', Hermione spotted him sitting alone at a table. Null was unshaven as well and more disheveled than ever -his breakfast lay mostly untouched on his plate, though a telltale dab of jam on his shirtfront showed he must have tried to eat something. Every few seconds he scribbled notes on the roll of parchment lying unfurled on the table next to him. He held another parchment in his hand as he read it. She wasn't sure whether she should invite herself to sit with him if he was involved in something, but she certainly had a few questions to ask.

May I? she asked, reaching for the top of the chair across the table from Dr. Null.

Dr. Null, as usual, seemed to be absorbed in his reading and finished to a certain point before responding. Then he looked up at her. Hmmm? Oh- by all means-do sit down. I don't know if I'll be very good company, though.That's all right-I'm not sure I'm up for much stunning conversation myself, Hermione admitted, settling into her chair. Tulip appeared almost immediately at her elbow. Some toast and bacon, please, Tulip. And strong tea-lots of it.

Null didn't seem to pick up on the subtleties of her statements, but then he sometimes didn't pick up on things when she all but hit him over the head with them. Besides, she'd lost him to his reading again during the moment she'd been talking to Tulip. Being subtle was getting her nowhere.

So what-exactly-happened last night?

Null looked up soberly. He ran his fingers through his uncombed hair and slowly released a deep breath. A challenge-male challenge. Spyder tried to take on Trey-dueling him to become unofficial leader of the group. Without going into detail, it got fairly ugly-divided the group even more so than they were before. What's worrisome is that Spyder used to need the support of Flaime before he'd get so aggressive. Now it seems he's willing to go it alone-which makes things look worse for Flaime being released back into the habitat.Was anyone hurt? Hermione asked anxiously.

Human or Yeti? Null asked dully, though he didn't wait for her answer. They're tired, but it seems the handlers pulled through okay. Not much we can do in this kind of situation except to protect the females and the young. We've got no chance against warring males in the wild-you probably saw how that could be true in your experience with Flaime the other day. And that was supposedly a controlled situation.But the Yeti-have you seen Starr? Or Leif? Hermione questioned, ignoring the pot of tea Tulip set down in front of her.

Leif's all right. We spotted him coming out of some deep brush at the edge of the open area where the fighting started. We haven't seen Starr yet, but we think we heard her-one of those secondary calls. As I mentioned before, Trey's her mate-and she's very loyal. If he received any injuries at all, she would be with him, tending them. Plus you have to keep in mind the adult Yeti usually fall into invisible mode when there's any kind of ongoing physical aggression within the group-all of them, not just those that are involved. The young don't always resort to it so quickly, but for the adults it's almost second nature.But-can they see one another when they're invisible?

Null shrugged and shook his head. We're not sure. We think that they have some sense about each other's whereabouts that we're unaware of. But we simply don't know enough about the species to be sure. Null glanced at the parchment he'd been reading and shook his head. Poor timing, though...really poor timing.Poor timing? Hermione questioned tentatively, reacting to his worried look.

All of it: the fact that the Yeti are getting so restless, the fact that we can't find out why, the confirmation that Phelix Nardstone is coming in ten days or so-name it, Null said dejectedly. For the future of the project, it's all just really poor timing.The future of the project? Hermione repeated in surprise.

Perhaps the limited future, Null mumbled.

Hermione started, her brow furrowed, isn't that the point of the whole thing? To do research and find out about their behavior? Surely they've got to give you time to work on it-nothing can be done overnight. And didn't you yourself say that they've jammed far too many Yeti into the outdoor habitat? They've got to take that into consideration.

Null chuckled softly and smiled a little, apparently at Hermione's naive idealism. They_ might_ give us a little leeway on the number of Yeti here affecting their behavior-_ if _they happen to look back at the grant proposal. That did state that overcrowding could become a problem. But even when they know they can't expect complete solutions, they expect some results and at least a few answers to take back to the Board-which so far we haven't been able to supply.Won't they be satisfied with the way you've taught the Yeti to communicate with us? she asked.

But having the Yeti communicate with us isn't directly solving their problem, Null explained. Yes, it may be the means to an end, so that we can find out from inside' sources what's going on between them. Yet even when they let us know what's going on, we don't yet know how to resolve it so that we can help save the species. In the eyes of the Ministry, they're just as endangered now as they were in the beginning, if not more so. Plus there's one more problem-a big one-which seems to be mostly attributed to me.

Hermione was appalled. 

Null nodded dully. Sloane. There've already been shockwaves going up the ladder about what happened here. As soon as he hit St. Mungo's he became a burden to the Ministry, both financially and politically. They're saying it was my lapse in judgment that caused the whole thing-I asked him to get closer to Flaime.But you asked him first if the other two could handle Flaime! Hermione couldn't fathom the injustice of it all.

Thank you, Hermione, for your vote of confidence, Null said quietly. But there will be an inquiry-which will sound like another mark against the project until proven otherwise-my side of it, anyway.We still don't know if the handlers did anything to the Yeti. What if they-Stop. Now, please, Dr. Null said firmly, glancing toward the handler's table where everyone was still engaged in conversation. One of the worst things I could do to myself now is to interfere with Dr. Voyde's study-and interfering with her people would accomplish the same. She's not the one whose integrity is in question at the moment, mine is. It would look very bad if I tried to implicate her or those she hired in any wrongdoing unless we have solid proof. Yes, I worked with Starr yesterday-she did indeed give me the same response she gave you, which gives both you and I the satisfaction of knowing that you made a correct interpretation. But all we have is the word of one Yeti regarding one incident that was shown through a new and highly speculative and controversial means of communication. There are those at the Ministry who still think the Yeti have no great intelligence at all, much less enough that they'd be willing to accept their word over that of any wizard. But the word of one Yeti against a whole group of professional handlers and a well-respected zooliwitch with an impeccable reputation? It'd never fly.And that injury to Flaime? Did you find out what caused it? Hermione asked anxiously.

Well, we don't have a final answer as of yet-and I know where you're going with this. It was a deep cut - possibly caused by one of the handlers, Dr. Null said, watching Hermione's eyes grow wide, or possibly by a sharp branch. That's my point-it could've been anything. We can't know for sure until there's been some further testing done-Dr. Voyde took some fur samples and scrapings at the site of the wound.But what if there was- Hermione persisted.

Dr. Null held up his hand to stop her. Would it be solid proof? Hard evidence?

Hermione closed her mouth, still open from trying to protest. Thoughts of the two handlers tormenting Tod, the look in Flaime's eyes when he was ready to fall on her -defeated, the expression on Starr's face when she trusted Hermione enough to tell her Trey had been hurt by Sloane, the handlers even laughing about causing pain to one of their own...She knew something was there, _something._ But solid it wasn't-none of it. she mused stubbornly. Not yet.Then, quite frankly, I'd rather not get distracted by it, Dr. Null said. Hard work and research are what have always paid off for me, Hermione-that's the way I intend to see my way clear of this.

Dr. Null was so emphatic with his last statement that Hermione was a bit reluctant to ask her last question.

An inquiry- is that why Phelix Nardstone is coming? She was already afraid of the answer. After all, if he was coming in ten days, Dr. Null's funding could be pulled even before her internship was over.

No, thankfully, Dr. Null answered. Tentative plans for Dr. Nardstone to visit were made some time ago, dependent upon his health and our progress here. I've actually known Phelix for a number of years. He believes that our learning to understand the Yeti and giving them credit for their great intelligence is what will eventually lead to their salvation as a species. I was hoping his visit would assure us of another year or two of funding at the very least. But with things going as they are now? He shook his head. I'm not so sure I even want him to see Trapperton. A voice to their side startled them both. Dr. Voyde had stopped at their table on her way to the door. The rest of the handlers were exiting now, walking sluggishly in their exhaustion.

Just wanted to let you know we'll be on light duty and shorter shifts today so that we can let the men get some sleep and be ready for tonight again-just in case. That means we may not have a lot of handlers to devote to moving the Yeti in and out of the training rooms. Dr. Voyde glanced pointedly at Hermione as if she might plan on escorting the Yeti herself again.

Null nodded. No problem. We'll just take a break on the training sessions-the Yeti are likely as tired as we are anyway, most of them. Besides, I never seem to run out of reports to catch up on. Maybe I'd better get on them before all this caffeine wears thin. The zoolowizard looked down and noticed the rolls of parchment on the table. Oh- and Pamela, Dr. Nardstone's confirmed- his office is saying ten days.That's what I hear- Dr. Voyde seemed to stop mid-thought, then spoke quickly. Oh-ten days? All right, then. That gives us a little time to prepare- if the Yeti give us a break.Cross your fingers, Null said.

Hermione's brow furrowed at Dr. Voyde as she walked away towards the Commons door. _Either I'm much more tired than I thought or she was on her way to saying she already knew about Nardstone..._

Mind if I desert you here with your breakfast? Dr. Null asked. If I'm going to get anything done today, I'd best do it before those two hours of sleep cave in on me.

Hermione suddenly realized that she'd completely ignored the breakfast Tulip had served long before; it was likely stone cold by now. Oh-no- that's all right. Please go on, I'll be over shortly.All right then. See you soon. Dr. Null turned to walk away, leaving his parchments on the table.

She knew he was tired-but then, this was nothing unusual. Dr. Null? Did you want to take these along? Or would you like me to bring them when I come?

Null swung around. Oh-no - I definitely meant to take them. Thank you for reminding me. He reached down and quickly rolled the two parchments, sticking them most of the way into his inside robe pockets. (She hoped he'd missed the shirt-front jam with them.)

Obviously she was tired, too, she thought, criticizing herself for blurting out the reminders about his parchments. Otherwise, she could have had free access to all of that information, whatever it was...

After he'd gone, Hermione looked around the Commons and found herself alone. She stood, picking up her plate and the teapot, ready to take them to the kitchen to be warmed when Tulip rushed out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishcloth.

Oh, no, no, no, Miss Hermione, the house-elf scolded. Tulip will be doing that. That, it's work for house-elves, miss, not doctor-interns.

Hermione smiled at her ambitious attitude. It's all right, Tulip. I do it at my own house all the time. In fact, my parents expect me to help when I'm at home.Oh, it's a bad, bad house-elf at work for Miss Hermione! Tulip said indignantly. She took the teapot from Hermione's hands. Your house-elf he needs hot tea on his head, miss-hot tea, he does! You must beat your house-elf, miss, will he not work-it's right he do his duty!No! No-I wouldn't beat my house-elf! Hermione said in horror. I mean-my family-we don't even have a house-elf.No house-elf? Tulip asked in confusion, but didn't pursue the issue. Trapperton has house-elves and one is me. So Miss Hermione gives teapots and dishes to Tulip at Trapperton. Gently pulling, the house-elf eased the plate from Hermione's hand into her own.

Hermione sighed. All right. But only if you answer a question for me.

Tulip frowned in confusion. Miss Hermione she wants to know something that knows Tulip?Yes- please. These problems at night with the Yeti-the yelling, releasing the dogs, using the flood lamps- were all of these things happening before I came here, too? Or has it just started?One, two, Tulip answered, but she started to look around the room in fear, as if someone else might be listening.

Hermione asked.

Miss Hermione she asks Tulip two questions not one, Tulip said strangely. Tulip knows not of what you're talking about. Tulip is but a house-elf. She brings warm food and tea but then very, very busy must be. The house-elf swung around and rushed off toward the kitchen.

Hermione then realized it was unlikely she was going to get any answer, much less one that might help her find the kind of solid evidence Dr. Null would need to clear his name completely.

But perhaps if one source wouldn't help, another one (or two) could...

-So Ric copied off a page of the owner's manual for the model number he thinks your motorbike might be- according to the other parts you've brought him, Leo was explaining as he handed over a box with three parts sliding around in the bottom. Plus he drew up a quick diagram to show you how he thinks it will attach into the exhaust system.

Ron pulled the page eagerly from Leo, scanning the hand-drawn picture. It was starting to amaze even him that he could make sense of how the motorbike parts in the box ought to fit together and replace the corroded and warped pieces he had sent home with Leo two days before.

And as much as I'd love to let you stand there and stare at that piece of paper to your heart's content, we've got loads of stuff to get out of here today, Leo said, shoving his now-empty coffee mug aside and grabbing a parchment with a very long list of parcels on it.

Ron took Leo's hint, telling himself he could look over the papers again later at lunch. He folded the diagram and the copied page carefully, tucking them inside the box with the parts and folding the flaps over to hold it closed. Then he promptly pushed it far under Leo's desk so that it wouldn't get mixed in with any of the shipments for the day.

Still, turning his mind off regarding the motorbike repairs was a whole different matter. In fact, at some point while he was mentally fitting the assembly onto the exhaust system, it occurred to Ron that Leo had just given him special instructions on exactly where to ship the supplies box that had been shoved into his hands, but that he also hadn't heard a word of it. The next thing he knew, he was staring at Leo's back as he walked away toward the Owl Room and, judging from the quickness in his step, the supervisor was irritated with Piddle again. _Probably a bad idea to ask him to repeat himself right now,_ Ron thought.

Ron looked at the address stamped onto the box he held and saw that, just like the one going to the French Consulate the other day, it was encrypted with runes. Usually only the names were encrypted with the locations still readable. But in the case of this box, someone had got just a bit carried away with the spell and it was _all_ encrypted. _No problem if you happen to know the incantation, _Ron thought smugly. He had actually become quite practiced at performing the spell the past few days and had tried it on probably more than a hundred boxes while Leo was upstairs or in Space Dislocation. But then he decided he'd better not get overly confident and headed into the stacks of boxes to confirm whether the Ship To' was local or international.

_...What Leo said started with an s', that I know... Saskatchewan? Sri Lanka? South Wales?_

Pulling his wand from his back pocket, Ron pointed it at the address, incanted _Aparecesco Escondidum!_, and waited for the letters to settle into place.

Ahhh...Scotland south - knew it was an s' Ron whispered to himself. _Okay-memorize the whole thing for the log book before you go out there so you don't look like a total knob: Scotland south, Trapperton Compound, Attn: H. Granger..._Ron's eyes opened wide and he felt an odd fluttering in his stomach. He shook his head to clear it and read it again. _H. GRANGER?H. Granger! Ron shouted triumphantly before he realized what he was doing. Still holding the rather large box, he half-hopped, half-danced in a circle there in the middle of the stacks, later thankful that no one had been around to watch. he yelled, not caring who heard this time. Grinning from ear to ear, he strutted from the stacks to go enter the address in the log book (__and find something else to write on to take it home,_ he thought).

Grinning widely as he turned the corner into the main aisle, Ron found Leo back from the Owl Room. The supervisor was seated at the shipping desk now, watching him with a strange mix of curiosity and apparent doubt for Ron's sanity. It was only when he saw Leo's face that he coughed, stepped back out of sight, and quickly changed the converted address back into the encrypted runes before continuing to the desk.

Pretty excited about the Shipping Department these days, Ron? Leo asked sarcastically. Wish I could get that excited about a supply shipment. Maybe it's a rookie thing.

Ron felt his ears turning hot and red, but he was too happy to care. Sorry- didn't mean to be so loud.

Leo shrugged. No problem, really. Just that most blokes your age'd only get that excited about remembering something like-what? Oh maybe -a pretty little _witch? _Have a good evening last night then, did you?

This time Ron felt his entire face going red-now he was embarrassed. Don't know what you mean- all I did last night was change out a braking system. He tried to pass it off casually, but he sensed he wasn't doing a very good job.

Leo just blinked at him, looking doubtful and amused. 

So now-on top of the fact that he had parts to work with for the motorbike tonight, he had to owl Harry with the good news and make a plan regarding just how he was going to contact Hermione. Even if she hadn't had the decency to owl him and Harry at all, he wasn't going to let her off the hook so easily (perhaps he would give her a hard time about not writing, but he was so glad to find her, he might even wait until the second letter for that...)

On the other hand, he'd been here almost a week now- maybe he wouldn't have to wait for home to make that plan. How difficult was it to weigh and measure parcels-or deliver them in the building for that matter? He could figure out how best to contact Hermione while he worked- and just the thought of it, of finally knowing where she was _(well, sort of)_ kept such a permanent grin on his face that Leo felt compelled to smirk at him the entire rest of the day.

The book lay open on the desk in front of Hermione's unseeing eyes.

_Grrrr! Those two! _Hermione thought, gazing over the book and out of the window. _Probably think they're going to teach me a lesson by not writing-probably decided to leave me hanging high and dry here on purpose just because I told them at first the Ministry didn't want me to write. How was I to know I could get away with it and not be in trouble?_

She rolled her eyes at no one. _Do you hear yourself, Hermione? Since when did Harry and Ron ever back down from doing something just because they were worried about getting in trouble? How hard would they laugh at you for going by the letter of the law, even at first? _She'd written them twice and received no response from either of them, the prats. She wasn't about to lay her dignity on the line even one more time; she'd show them.

The anger at Harry and Ron welling inside of her made her feel better on the surface. But it did nothing to allay the nagging little pool of loneliness buried deep inside.

_  
_It was a very warm, humid evening and she leaned up in her desk chair to pull the damp, wrinkled shirt away from her back as she sat in her quarters. Even with the windows in her cabin wide open, the sticky air pressed in on her and there wasn't even an inkling of a breeze.

Null had released Hermione early in the day when they'd finally caught up with reports; both had felt too worn and bedraggled to go on after their long, sleepless night. Hermione had retreated to her cabin, where she'd fallen asleep in the late afternoon heat. One long nap later, she had taken a book to dinner with her to read as she ate alone in the deserted Commons. But now she was wide-awake, hot and restless. She felt the urge to get up and out of that enclosed space-a walk would be nice. But where to go? No doubt Tulip was busy with the after-dinner clean-up, Tod was likely helping, and she knew she didn't want to go anywhere near the handlers' building.

Sticking her wand in the back pocket of her walking shorts, she set out for the lab. It had been a while since she'd checked on Flaime, who she knew was still housed in the east soc lab until his fate was decided.

The camp was especially quiet. There were no lights on in Dr. Voyde's cabin, but Hermione could easily guess where she might be if she wasn't there or in the lab. Random male laughter came from the handlers' building, but she could see no one outside. She had just used the Security Spell to lock her cabin, hoping there wasn't enough heat left in the last few stubborn sunbeams to heat her cabin even further, but she could see that all of the windows in Dr. Null's cabin were as wide open as hers had previously been. There was no one moving around inside, but there was an oil-lamp burning in the window, bright enough to shine warmly from the lengthening shadows of the surrounding trees.

Slipping quietly into the large gray building, Hermione found herself alone as she walked along the dim hallway to the office room and the east soc lab. She faced the enormous one-way mirror, visually scanning the woods-like terrain. The waning natural light from the glass panes overhead was still bright enough to spot any movement, but she saw none. Although it took her ten minutes or so, she finally spotted Flaime, high up on a wide ledge leading to one of the cave shelters. He was lying on his side, apparently asleep, slightly curled into a fetal position with one shaggy arm cradling his enormous head. She wondered at first if he was all right, but then she watched as he stirred, stretched, and rolled a bit to calmly settle into another position. If he was concerned about what was to become of him, there was no indication of that this evening.

Sighing that her walk hadn't evolved into anything even remotely interesting, Hermione turned to go and nearly tripped. Someone had left one of the huge sacks of dog biscuits lying open near the door; they'd probably been on their way to distribute them into the training rooms. Or maybe they'd been abandoned in the confusion last night since they were used to reward the dogs for their hard work in the runs...

_The dogs,_ Hermione thought, _I've never seen the dogs._

Although at first she was uncertain of pursuing her idea after the eerie feelings of last night, she tried to think about it in the more rational light of day and after several hours of sleep had returned her sense of reason. She'd never feared dogs before - well, aside from Fluffy, perhaps-but normal dogs, even large ones like Fang, had always attracted her, not repelled her. And certainly these dogs had to be kept in cages- somewhere- when they weren't working as guard dogs.

Suddenly a sly smile lit her face-her walk had just become a little more interesting. Perhaps a little adventure was just what she needed-she'd show Harry and stupid Ron. Turning to scan the desks in the office room, she couldn't immediately see what she was looking for, but in a rubbish bin near the door to the back hallway, she spied it. Shaking off bits of other rubbish, she pulled out a battered burlap sack with several small holes in the body and a seriously frayed edge at the top. She whipped the bag against one of the desk chairs sitting nearby, turning her head to avoid the cloud of dust that came her way. Several whacks later, she went to the huge bag of dog biscuits, filling the burlap bag with handful after handful. Now she was ready for her grand adventure.

She wasn't sure if she was permitted to visit the dogs, but certainly no one had encouraged her in that direction, so she thought it perhaps best to keep the entire excursion under wraps.

From the cement stoop of the east lab entrance, she could look around the camp a bit.  
The double fencing was visible all the way around its edge, stopping only at the locked and warded entrance gates that led out onto an open, and empty-for-miles grassland. Furrowing her brow, she hadn't expected to be stymied so quickly._ Where could they keep the dogs?_

There _was_ one area of fencing she couldn't see well in an area where she'd never had reason to be before. It was visually blocked from where she stood by the lab building and ran between there and the handler's quarters. She looked quickly around the camp again, finding no one about yet aside from Tod, who was busy cleaning something outside of his and Tulip's apartment in back of the kitchen. She could vaguely hear his rambling voice as he chattered in his native house-elf tongue with Tulip, apparently still inside. But Hermione wanted to take no chances.

She slipped inside the building again, sneaking through the office room with her bag of dog biscuits and tiptoeing into the back hallway that led out to the habitat. Briefly considering heading into the natural habitat itself, she realized that it would soon be dark and that the habitat was likely not the best place for a young unarmed witch after dark when there were warring Yeti males about. But there was another door there at the end of the hallway, one she had never gone through...

Hermione opened it slowly and stepped out onto another cement stoop, this time to the west end of the building. The double fencing stopped to the right of her with a gate leading into the dog runs. And-could it be? To the left of her lay a narrow dirt road, passing within twenty meters of the handlers' quarters and running alongside the edge of the habitat's enormous fences, but with low brush growing along its edges. Even though the light was fading quickly, she could see that some two hundred meters down the road were several more small outbuildings. If she squinted her eyes, she could vaguely see one or two four-legged creatures wandering about in front of one of the long, narrow ones. That had to be them.

Crouching low behind the brush so as not to be seen from the handlers' building, Hermione stepped quickly and lightly, following the arc of the huge habitat fence. _Lucky I'm not on the far side of the fence across the road-likely that one's got ward alarms that would go off like fireworks if I was over there._

Once she was out of visual range of the handler's quarters, she could walk more upright and much more swiftly. She was no more than halfway there when she realized she was on the right track-the outbuilding she'd spotted earlier held kennels for a number of dogs. Apparently the animals had already heard her coming, but she must have been downwind, for they weren't yet certain if she was familiar or not and due to their strict training, they stayed quiet until they found out for sure.

In the front, open areas of the individual kennels, where there had previously only been one or two dogs, there were now four, standing at their individual fences and watching her walk up the road. Another appeared from one of its doorway out of the building in the back, then two more, until there were seven dogs total watching Hermione. She was within ten meters of them when the first dog barked, setting off a chain reaction. _ Why didn't I think of that?_

Quickly Hermione stepped aside into the bushes again in case the dogs' barking had alerted someone. She dropped the bag of biscuits on the ground, reached in to pull one out and threw it with all her might toward the kennels. The biscuit dropped to the ground about three meters shy, which only seemed to irritate the dogs. Crouching low and looking back toward the camp, she saw no indication that anyone was concerned and on their way, but something told her she needed to find a way to shut the dogs up or get herself out of there fast.

Glancing down at the bag of dog biscuits lying open and fully aware that she'd already come up short on her most powerful throw, she rolled her eyes at herself when she heard Ron's words from first year ringing in her mind: Are you a witch or not?

Grabbing her wand from her back pocket, she mumbled an incantation and swirled it until seven dog biscuits were circling in mid-air as if performing some obscure May Day dance. She lifted the circling biscuits higher with her spell, floating them a little above the level of the bushes toward the kennels until they danced above the dogs watching hungrily below. _(At least they've stopped their barking,_ she thought.) Whining, some of the animals stood on hind legs to try and get closer while the others just watched the floating biscuits, mesmerized.

Hermione incanted, watching as the biscuits flew apart, dispersing themselves one to a kennel. While the dogs stood crunching happily, she moved closer. One or two dogs finished quickly and started to growl when they saw the unfamiliar girl approaching their kennels. She stopped and performed the entire feat once more-which seemed to convince the dogs that she was indeed friend, not foe. This time when she moved closer, they growled no more.

Life experience had taught her that it was foolish to go sticking your hands into the cages of unfamiliar dogs, especially those who had likely been trained to kill. But she held her hand low and a few centimeters from the cages as she spoke in a low, soothing voice and moved from one kennel to the next down the row. This way the dogs could learn her scent and learn that she was a friend with dog biscuits and good intentions in hand. She had so few friends here at Trapperton, she figured the more she could make (be they human or not), the better off she would be.

The dogs themselves were beautiful specimens of their species: Dobermans, German Shepherds, and Rottweilers. They were muscular, well-fed, and well-groomed from all appearances; Hermione could only guess that they were well-trained, too. All of them wandered to the front of the kennels silently to get a whiff of the kind stranger's scent and listen to her tell them what good dogs they were. One or two even wagged their tails in greeting, though others seemed to think that just a bit too undignified and friendly for a first meeting. But no matter what their greeting, each dog was paid for their acceptance of her with another dog biscuit or two, hand-fed through the fencing this time.

Though there were ten kennels, there weren't any dogs kept in the last three. The only other structure nearby was a low cement ring that looked as if it had been used to burn debris of some sort-in fact, it smelled quite strongly of burned meat -perhaps it had something to do with the dogs' food. It was getting quite dark now and in the dim light, it was becoming difficult to see. 

Hermione had seen all except the last dog. But this last dog-definitely the largest- was eyeing her strangely, as if thinking, as if trying to recall a scent and a memory. He didn't wag his tail or even come too close to the fence, for it looked as if he almost needed to see her in her entirety-and that he was inherently distrustful.

Taken aback by his strange behavior, Hermione was beginning to worry that perhaps the dog was considering an attack because the look in his eyes was so intense, so focused. Of course, there was nothing he could do to her from inside the confines of the kennel fence, but he could certainly make enough noise to attract attention from the camp and get her in trouble again. She was almost prepared to grab her bag and back slowly onto the road, ready to run, when even in the dusky light, she saw the seventh dog look straight into her eyes.

Suddenly everything came pouring into her mind, so intensely that she gasped and took a step back to steady herself. She saw King's Cross Station and boxes and trolleys and feathers sifting through her field of vision. Cats howled, people scrambled around her, and great booming barks shook the air. A long staff with a bluntly pointed head appeared out of nowhere and stabbed at the dog in front of her again and again, while he yelped and whined.

But the dog before her wasn't yelping and whining now. That had been over a month ago, but she would never, ever forget the doleful look of pain in the dog's huge dark eyes...Could she remember what his name was? She'd only heard it once or twice...

she said in a voice hardly louder than a whisper. The dog cocked his head, if only a fraction of an inch, and his stub of a tail began to move his flanks from side to side. Quickly, she reached into her bag and pulled out a biscuit to hold out for the dog, who now walked forward confidently and gently took it from Hermione's hand. Bruno, that's it, isn't it?

Saying the name seemed to re-start the memories in her mind and her vision followed the length of the staff from its point pounding at Bruno's ribs to the hands that held the staff... She gasped again and her fingers went to her mouth. Oh my word... She looked down at the dog and tried to stabilize her breathing before thinking any further because it came now in quick, uneven gasps. If you're Bruno...

More recent memories instantly flooded her mind. A huge man with a deep, gravelly voice, angry with her and headed her way with a lumbering gait...little girl! growled in anger... a sneering grin and deep, sinister laughter at another man's pain...

_The man with the dog, _ the thought fired into her mind. _Carl, the man unofficially in charge of Voyde's men, is the man with the dog._

Her head began to spin and Hermione seriously thought she might pass out then and there. But how would she explain having fainted near the guard dogs' kennels to Dr. Null and the others? Heedless of where she'd be sitting, Hermione let her knees buckle and she plopped to the ground cross-legged. She knew quite well that if she didn't sit just then, she was going to fall face-first into the dirt.

_The handlers...the handlers too... all of them. They're the men from King's Cross, the ones who met Carl by the stairs-they have to be._ Their size, their evil laughter...their enjoyment of someone else's suffering...they had to be the same men from the station.  
Five weeks ago, they were on their way here, from King's Cross to Trapperton, just as she had made her way in a more roundabout manner and with a few other stops in-between. That's how she had vaguely recognized Otto and Ulav, at first thinking that they reminded her of the new neighbors back home. But that wasn't where she'd seen them at all.

Now she knew why the men went out of their way to stay clear of her-and had probably advised Voyde to do the same. They had recognized her too, only much sooner than she'd managed to put everything together. Hermione wondered who had recognized her first. _Probably Carl,_ she thought, _then he had, of course, passed the word along to Dr. Voyde-no wonder the woman hated me from the moment she met me._

She thought she had nearly pulled herself together enough to stand without feeling faint again when she heard Bruno bark in front of her. Looking up, she thought he was barking at her, but realized differently when she saw him staring down the road in the same direction from where she had come. The other dogs began to bark and she whipped around to see what all of the noise was directed at.

Someone was coming. She could now vaguely hear whistling and the crunching of heavy footsteps coming down the road, though it was difficult to gauge how far away they were due to the barking. A light was flashing bright, then dull, then bright again, as if a lantern was swinging with the rhythm of someone's gait.

Suddenly Hermione heard rustling in the brush on the far side of the tall habitat fencing across the road too-from the movement of something very large. The rustling inside the fence seemed to be getting closer at the same speed the person on the road was. She wondered if there was some connection, but she didn't have time to find out-it was time to move if she didn't want to be discovered.

Crouching low so as not to be taller than the level of the low surrounding brush, Hermione gathered her burlap sack and hurried around to the far side of the kennel building. Luckily, the back had a solid structure so that the dogs could find shelter from bad weather. It also happened to protect someone who was hiding there from being seen from the road.

Throwing her body against the back wall, Hermione listened. That squeaking-it sounded like the wheels on the trolley she used for mail. She could no longer see the road from here, but she could still make out the habitat fencing to her side, since it was open between that fencing and her. The cement ring was also partially visible on the far side of the kennel building.

The dogs' behavior had changed as the person approached. The general warning barks had turned into snapping and saliva-filled snarling-Hermione could hear the dogs charging their chain-link fences.

Suddenly the whistling stopped. Shut yer faces, you bloody mongrels! Hermione could barely hear the man over the noise of the dogs, but she soon heard a short sizzling sound and several yelps. Then the dogs quieted.

And yeah, I know you're there, you ugly thing, she heard a deep voice mutter when the whistling stopped nearby; she briefly wondered who he meant and if she'd been seen somehow after all. You're riiiggghhht - there!

Something whizzed through air across the open space and she saw a flash of light explode close to the habitat fence. Its several-second illumination showed quick movement that shook the tall bushes; branches snapped and leaves scattered in the air. But Hermione saw nothing else.

Damn! Missed seeing yer pretty face, the deep voice said. It wasn't Carl, but judging from the accent and the surliness, the voice definitely belonged to one of the other handlers. She heard large, heavy boxes drop and the light finally settled in one place.   
She heard human grunting and some scuffling around in the dirt, then the boxes were dropped again, but this time she could see one edge of several of them sticking out of the top of the cement fire ring.

How sad all this food fer yer kind went bad-musta been the heat, I reckon, the voice said. Say goodbye to yer supper _- Inflamare!_

Hermione flattened herself to the wall as bright light from the now-flaming boxes illuminated her hiding place-she silently scooted away toward the far corner of the building to fall deeper into the shadows. Still, she couldn't see anyone-which meant that, thankfully, they couldn't possibly see her.

But she wasn't prepared at all for what she did see. The light was also illuminating a very large and furry face as it peered through the habitat fencing. One of the Yeti that she didn't recognize was looking longingly toward the boxes that were aflame. The pungent smell of burning meat wafted through the air, but it didn't smell putrid in any way. Staring for several minutes, the Yeti froze and was silent. Then it charged.

Another light, brighter even than the flame, flashed blue and orange the moment the Yeti touched the fence. Some unseen force hummed and threw the creature back several meters to the ground, causing the Yeti to yelp out in pain, surprise, or both.

All seven dogs began to bark and snarl, jumping at their kennel fences again the instant the Yeti charged the barrier.

Scrambling to its feet, the creature stood back from the fence this time, but its sad and frustrated face gave away what it was thinking. Slowly opening its jaws, it released one of the sorrowful yells like Hermione had heard the night before; that set off the dogs even more.

Hermione's eyes flew wide and she clenched her teeth to keep from crying out-especially when she heard deep laughter.

Yeh stupid animal-yeh'll never learn those wards are there, will ya? the voice asked when the laughter had died. We shoulda let yeh just eat that rubbish. Woulda served yeh right.

Closing her eyes for a moment then to try and calm herself, flashes of the cut across Flaime's back and Starr emphatically insisting that Sloane had hurt Trey flew through her mind. Just the handler's attitude made her wonder if Flaime's attack on Sloane hadn't been unprovoked aggression, but revenge.

_Solid proof, _Null had said, _hard evidence._

  
She didn't care how long it took or what she had to do to get it. Hermione knew she had to keep herself out of trouble long enough to find that hard evidence, _but I will,_ she vowed..._I will._


	15. Wishful Thinking

_A/N: More thanks are due to my wonderful betas **Christina Teresa, Seakays, and sunshyndaisies**, who leaped tall buildings and fought humongous, evil creatures for days on end to help bring this to you...Wait--wrong story. Maybe it was that they managed to beta-read this and get it back to me while horribly busy. Ah well -- same thing._

Actually, I'd been hoping that my schedule and theirs would allow me to get this chapter to you as a little gift for whatever holiday you happen to celebrate this time of year. But I didn't make it in time for most of them. I know-- just think of it as that one tiny present you found while you were packing away the decorations, the one that you somehow forgot to open...

Hope it fits. ) NZ

_  
_****

Chapter 15

Wishful Thinking

Sleep was becoming a problem.

Between the tension in the air and the sporadic noises that awakened Hermione for the second night in a row, it certainly didn't feel like it ought to be morning so soon. Hermione stretched her entire body and tried to stay awake, purposely lifting her brows to keep her eyelids from dropping closed again.

Of course, it had been pretty late by the time she had crept back into her cabin the night before. She'd had to wait until the handler had left his burnt-out box of whatever that had been, and luckily, she had sneaked into the back of the lab building just minutes before the handlers had set out to get the dogs and release them in the guard runs.

The entire time that she'd been trapped behind the dog kennels waiting for the handler to finish his task, she had tried to think of a way to interrupt it somehow. But she'd been unable to think of anything that wouldn't also get her caught or make for some awkward questions about why she was there in the first place. She'd really hoped that the handler would either get bored or be called away by one of his fellow workers before the entire box had burned into cinders. But that hadn't happened and, checking it as best she could in the dark by poking around in the hot ashes with a stick, she could find nothing to disprove that all he'd done was get rid of some rancid food.

Hermione had had plenty of time to think as she stood there motionless. The Yeti's actions seemed strange, but they didn't seem to be anything that wouldn't fall within the range of normal reactions. Ordinarily, though, the Yeti were savvy enough about the warded fences not to just randomly charge them, unless they were upset and not thinking or new to the habitat. It was true she hadn't recognized the Yeti she'd seen last night, but she also knew that there'd been no new creatures admitted since her arrival.

But that Yeti had acted strangely compelled to charge the fence. It was as if it had felt it had to get through anyway, in spite of taking the chance that the wards would kick in. Either the Yeti had been motivated to try and get to the food, spoiled or not, or get to the handler (who would have deserved what he got after having an attitude like his, in Hermione's opinion).

The last two nights had been full of Yeti howls and yells, some aggressive-sounding, some sorrowful. Hermione had been so sensitive to the sounds in the night that even the droning of a Muggle airplane in the distance had awakened her.

She had so many questions that she wished she could just ask Dr. Null. But he'd been especially reserved over the past four or five days, so afraid for his position and reputation now, that he wasn't necessarily very open to queries and complaints. Also, she knew that beyond a doubt, Null trusted Dr. Voyde. But Voyde wasn't the one in charge...Hermione was almost sure...and she'd never convince Null of that--at least without showing him what he considered to be solid evidence'. _ Oh, Ron and Harry, you gits, why haven't you written? I need some help here and I know one of you two prats would know just what to do._

She peeked sideways at her alarm clock, the one hand of which had just clicked over to Forty minutes before the post and daily Ministry shipment arrives. Hermione sighed; so much for any hopes of going back to sleep for even a few more minutes.

Dragging herself out of bed, Hermione showered and dressed, then rushed over to the commons for a quick breakfast. Tea cup still in hand, she headed for the Post Room, which was little more than a cement floor with a tiny wooden shack built around it.

The Owls had already arrived and those with loose mail had simply dropped it into the bin and gone. Three Special Delivery owls were waiting on the tying post for their letters and small packages to be untied from their legs. But before she stepped anywhere near the cement pad, she checked the time: two minutes to go.

Hermione wondered if she'd have time to untie one of the Special Delivery owls and send it on its way, but she was afraid that in her current state of weariness she wouldn't get done in time and would again disrupt the Space Dislocation process. She'd interfered with the vacuum area twice by accident while first handling the supply shipments and had received a terse, automatically-generated Ministry form memo each time entitled: Space Dislocation for the Uninformed and Ill-Advised (_Space Dislocation for Dummies, _she mentally translated).

Standing in the doorway of the Post Room, Hermione decided to simply finish her tea and wait for the shipment to arrive. She didn't have long to wait. The change in air pressure that she'd come to expect gave way to a feeling that something was drawing her in and she covered her ears to help block out the noise. Looking toward the cement pad, she saw what looked like a rippling in the empty air, similar to the effect of heat coming off of the ground in the desert. Within one minute, the first box arrived, starting a chain reaction of rapid-fire changes in air pressure and the subsequent arrivals of more and more boxes.

The last box shipped always came with a small piece of double parchment attached, but the vacuum around that last box never settled until someone extracted the parchment by magic and completed the process. The receiver (now Hermione) then verified the box count, signed it, tore off the Trapperton portion, then returned the remaining parchment to the vacuum with her wand. Promptly the parchment disappeared and the vacuum settled, the delivery was now considered complete, and was ready for distribution on site. If no one signed off and completed the shipping process on-site, the Ministry shipping Department was notified.

Hermione wearily walked to the Special Delivery owls and relieved them of their burdens, giving each of them several bits of bacon she'd brought in a napkin from breakfast and sending them on their way.

Next, she began the process of sorting the mail for Trapperton. In her first few days of handling the supplies, she'd had to learn a spell to decode the encrypted runes so she could tell where and to whom to deliver the various supplies (just _one_ of the things Hank had omitted teaching her the first day). Although all of the boxes had her name listed as receiver' once she began signing the shipping bills, there was always another name or area listed for delivery. She already knew that none of the boxes would be hers, since personal-post owls were allowed and encouraged to arrive later in the day, just like Dr. Voyde's food shipments for the Yeti. Hopefully, there would be word from her parents coming later on. Yesterday was one of those days she might have heard from Harry and Ron--had they had the decency to write.

Perhaps it was a sign of her weariness, her loneliness, the worsening tension and conditions at Trapperton, or a combination of all those things, but Hermione was finding herself becoming more cynical and depressed each day. She worked hard to maintain a decent attitude among the others because it was expected--and she'd always done what was expected of her, especially in a professional capacity. Besides, she was trying to motivate herself to stay constantly aware of all that was going on so that she could possibly spot anything else that could be hard evidence', not only to help Dr. Null, but to free the Yeti from whatever problems were befalling them in the habitat. She laughingly thought about her first day at Trapperton and all that Sharpe and Null had told her she would learn about teamwork'.

As she loaded the sorted groups of boxes onto the trolley and dragged it just outside the door, she noticed there was one tiny box left on the cement pad. How had she missed it? She didn't remember ever receiving anything so small delivered with the supply parcels--usually something like that would be carried by the owls.

Reflexively walking over to pick it up, she was immediately reminded of the Ministry warning memos. Without touching the box, she used her wand to turn it address-side- up. She could see that it was indeed addressed to Trapperton, so she performed the charm to decode the encrypted runes and saw that it had only one name printed on it: H. Granger. Rolling it around gingerly with her wand to check for other names, she discovered that there was very little weight to it. It felt almost empty; how could it be supplies? And who was it really supposed to go to?

The abnormality of everything about the box set off alarms in her head regarding the Ministry terrorism memos. She was nearly tempted to throw the thing away or give it to Dr. Null--but he was a scientist, not a politician or a policeman--and not the type to try and do anything about it. Plus, it was addressed to her.

Instead, she decided on another plan. Hermione moved the box to the middle of the cement floor and just in case, made sure there were no wandering mice or anything else alive hiding in the corners of the Post Room. Next, she stepped outside and walked all the way around the little building, making certain that no one else was close by.

Hiding behind the doorframe and leaning through just enough to be able to take good aim, Hermione incanted,The small flaps on the box popped open, but nothing more happened. Waiting carefully for several minutes just to make certain that there was no delayed-reaction spell of some sort, she soon felt just a bit foolish standing outside the doorway of the Post Room.

Hermione picked up a long stick and readied her wand, prepared to step inside the shack. She carefully snuck up on the box, hoping that any malicious charm inside wasn't set with a motion detector of any sort. She waved the stick over the top of the box and then carefully poked the tip inside, but still all it seemed to be was an innocent box. Easing her body up to it, Hermione peered inside, able to see a sheet or two of parchment with a very few words written on the top sheet. Angling her head awkwardly so that she could read the words, she could hardly believe her eyes. But she was no longer worried about any evil intentions coming with the box. In fact, it was quite the opposite.

Suddenly throwing herself to the ground next to it, she grabbed up the little box and reached inside to scoop out two sheets of parchment. She held her breath, reading the few words on the first one over once, twice-- then she clutched the parchments to her chest, trying to mentally process that they were real.

Finally able to catch her breath, she had only her brimming eyes to contend with now as she read softly to herself:

_Dear H. Granger,'_

Ha!

This time I found you.

Love,

Ron

All right, your turn, Wissle, the voice said somewhere in the distance, but Ron was too tired to notice that it had anything to do with him.

The wizard behind Ron nudged his arm. You going in now, Wissle--or what? Ron repeated in confusion, then jerked to attention when he realized they were reading his badge and they meant him. Oh, yeah--yeah. Sorry. He stepped into the Floo fireplace and turned to face the hall full of long queues of Ministry workers waiting to leave for the evening. Those who could Apparate home, like his father already had, usually did so. But those whose licenses were out of order for some reason (or the few who were too young, like Ron and a few of the business interns) still had to wait in line at the end of the day.

Ron reached into the pouch in his robe pocket and scooped out some powder to throw on the hearth floor. He clutched his closed box of motorbike parts tightly to him for safe-keeping. The Burrow, he said, taking care to enunciate clearly through his exhaustion; he certainly didn't want to end up anywhere but home. The spinning began immediately. Pulling in his elbows, he closed his eyes and fought the urge to yawn so that he wouldn't be inhaling a good portion of the huge cloud of dust whirling around him.

A few minutes later the spinning stopped. He reached up to wipe the dust from his eyes before opening them (_really_ wishing he could just lie down and keep them closed for several hours instead). But in the end he managed to lift his heavy lids--only to think he was seeing double.

Darling, you're home! said two all-too-familiar voices in unison from two faces only inches from his own. He felt his body being yanked forward by the arms before he could even grunt a reply.

Here, dear, let me take that for you, George said in a high, saccharin tone, pulling the parts box from his grasp and setting it aside while Fred continued to tug at him.

Ron protested, trying to wake up and recoup his arms at the same time.

Oh, poor sweetums must be so tired. Come sit down, love, Fred cooed sarcastically, ignoring the protests and guiding Ron toward the old armchair in the living room.

Was it a long, hard day, sugar-pie? George asked, grabbing Ron's other elbow so that he was trapped between the twins.

Stop it-- Ron said.

Oh, I know-- it must be just _exhausting,_ Fred said, getting ready to push Ron's chest.

George extended his leg behind Ron's ankles just as Fred pushed so that Ron fell awkwardly into the chair with a loud _flump_. Such is the life of a working man, Fred.Leave me alone! Ron complained grumpily, trying to squirm into an upright position.

George, do push that footstool over here, Fred directed. Your poor little feetsies must be just _aching!_

  
Both twins were reaching down for a leg to plop onto the stool when they heard an angry growl. They looked up to find themselves staring down the shaft of a certain fourteen-inch wand.

_Don't_ touch me again if you know what's good for you, Ron warned through gritted teeth.

The twins looked at one another. they howled to mock him, again in unison. The two boys stood, grinning from ear to ear, then threw their hands in the air, palms forward in surrender.

Okay, okay, don't get your knickers all in a wad, Fred said.

We were just trying to help you relax after a long hard day at a _real_ job, George said. What's that like, anyway?Don't worry, George, he can't really use magic on us, you know, Fred continued, the whole underage thing.

Ron was too tired and irritated to be thinking clearly. He'd become so accustomed to automatically using magic in the Shipping Department and in the shed that it hadn't even occurred to him he'd be in trouble with the Ministry for using it on Fred and George now. _Might be worth it,_ a little voice in his mind whispered. But no, then he'd never find Hermione. Maybe Fred really _had_ done him a favor by reminding him. He lowered his wand in disgust.

Of course, now _we,_ on the other hand, can use magic whenever we please, George boasted.

Ron glowered at his two brothers. Who let you two in, anyway? Wait--we must be having something really good for dinner.Oh now Ronnie, we _paid_ for our meal already, Fred said. We had to listen to Mum for at least an hour going on about you working at the Ministry at a _real _job, just so you could earn money for parts for that motorbike.And how you had such a spiffing idea for surprising Harry for his birthday... George's brow furrowed. But wasn't his birthday -- ?

Ron grimaced. Yeah, yeah, it was a couple of days ago. But he already knows his present is coming late--I told him at Arabella's.At Arabella's? Arabella Figg's? Fred asked. Well, now, aren't you just the little wizard about town?

Ron tried to come up with a brilliant retort, but it just wasn't in him after working all day. Plus he still had lots he wanted to finish tonight, if he could somehow summon the energy. There was only one thing for it--he leaned his head back and yelled. Ginny! _ Giinnnny! _Fred and George want you!

The kitchen door swung wide and Ginny's head appeared. Nice try, Ron. I'm helping Mum with dinner--oh, yeah, and Dad's out here talking to us, too--so that won't work either. Ron muttered in defeat, looking up to see Fred and George elbowing one another.

So, we were wondering-- Fred started.

Yeah, we were wondering-- George agreed.

Since it's still here--And we don't know how much longer it will be--And Mum knows about it now--So we don't even have to whisper any more--Can you show it to us?Right now?We've only ever heard about it, you know--The stuff of legends--we're not even sure it's real--But if we could touch it--

George opened his mouth to finish Fred's sentence, but Ron held up his hand. Okay okay...okay. I'll show you. But-- Ron held out both hands now to his brothers. You two got me down here--now you two can get me up.

Fred and George each grabbed one hand and pulled, lifting Ron out of the sunken chair. Ron walked to the table where George had left his parts box and picked it up.

We'll be back in a bit, Mum, Ron said as the three brothers tromped through the kitchen.

Going out to see the motorbike? Arthur asked, sounding as if he was trying to keep the eager tone out of his voice.

Molly's head snapped around from where she'd been standing over the stove orchestrating a group of steaming pots and stirring spoons. She nearly knocked the mixer askew with her elbow where it had been whipping cream on the counter, but Ginny rushed to catch it in time and set it aright.

Enjoy yourselves, Arthur said dejectedly, acknowledging his wife's glare.

And don't be too long, boys! Molly admonished.

Ron held the back door open for Fred and George to pass. But as he waited he watched an entire conversation take place between his mum and dad, though not a word was spoken until the end. An accepting, yet hopeful look floated from his dad to his mum; a stern stare returned from his mum to his dad, but softer than the previous glare; a charming little questioning head tilt crossed from his dad to his mum; then came a momentary rolling of eyes from his mum.

Molly sighed. Oh, go on, she said, softly hitting her husband on the shoulder with the dish towel. Thank Merlin it won't be here much longer.

Arthur scrambled from his seat, obviously wasting no time in case his wife might change her mind. He quickly tossed his work hat and robes from his lap into his chair, then hurriedly headed for the back door where Ron still held it open. Stopping short, he rushed back to his wife, kissed her on the cheek and squeezed her quickly, then turned and started out of the door again.

_Weird,_ Ron thought. _But it got him what he wanted!_

Ron followed his dad down the path into the back garden. Fred and George were already nearly halfway to the shed, yammering on to one another about something Ron couldn't hear.

The four Weasley men's visit to the motorbike was sufficiently full of ooh's and aah's to make Ron feel quite proud of what he'd accomplished. Ever since that evening of his mum's discovery, he really hadn't been able to share his progress with anyone, since Arthur had been reluctant to set off another calamitous discussion' by visiting.

With the addition of all the new parts he'd earned from Leo and installed on those long summer nights in the shed, the motorbike now appeared to be, on the outside at least, beautifully and gloriously complete. Although Ron knew that there were still a few other parts and assemblies to be refurbished and replaced within, the exterior of the motorbike glinted and sparkled like new. _It could probably pass for one of those in one of Leo's magazines,_ he thought proudly.

So--who helped you? George asked.

Yeah, surely little Ronniekins couldn't do all this by his lonesome, Fred agreed.

Ron glared at his brothers, who turned to their dad.

Don't look at me, Arthur said. I've been on restriction until tonight.

All of them laughed, having been in precisely those same circumstances with Mrs. Weasley many times in their lives. They were all aware that their father was a man who chose his battles with their mother wisely and let the other issues slide.

Nah--just kidding, little brother, George said. We've even stopped by the house a couple of times when Mum said you were out here working. Though we did think maybe you were really out here snoozing instead, one look at this says you weren't.Yeah,_ really_ nice work, Fred agreed.

Ron said. You mean the two of you actually skipped a chance to come out  
here and wind me up?Do you know how _hard_ that was? Fred asked.

Yes, well--everyone must grow up sometime, Ron my boy, George said in his best wise man' voice. We _are_ still putting up a fight, but once in a while...But I don't know, George. Coulda been worth it to let him finish this. Harry doesn't know it yet, but he is one lucky bloke, Fred said, rubbing the tips of his fingers over the smooth new black leather seat. Just smell it! He took a deep breath and released it with an appreciative .

Aside from his one earlier denial of having anything to do with the motorbike's refurbishment, Arthur had been silently circling the motorbike slowly since the four of them arrived. He squatted down occasionally to see it from a different angle and peered closely at some detail from time to time. I can't believe this is the same motorbike you started with, Ron. This is one beautiful machine.So--don't keep us in suspense any longer, George said enthusiastically. Start er up!

Ron cleared his throat. Erm, yeah...well...that's a bit of a problem. all three admirers said.

Well, it _should_ run--I think, Ron said uncertainly. I mean, most of the parts that were broken have been replaced. We still need to replace some old working ones with newer ones, but I think it's together enough to run. It's just that-- the three voices asked again.

As far as we can tell, there's no key, Ron explained. Leo from work has got his brother checking all over the place for a key to fit the ignition assembly on a motorbike this old. Not only that, we're not sure if it should be a normal key or something-- magical. Arthur said. Good point. I don't think I ever knew way back then, either. Don't remember seeing it or Sirius ever saying...Well, plus, Ron continued, I've owled Professor Lupin. He's checking around Grimmauld Place for me. But that's a bit of a job in itself, hunting something as small as a key in that huge old house.Maybe when we move over there in a couple of weeks, you'll be able to look yourself, Arthur suggested. We'll probably have to take this along to get it to Harry anyway.

Ron shrugged dejectedly. I _was_ hoping we'd have it up and running by then, though.Well, don't worry, son, Arthur said, clapping Ron on the shoulder. It may turn up either way, between Remus and your friend at work.

Ginny appeared at the front of the shed. Mum's going to have a kneazle if you all don't get in there soon!

Ron sat wearily on the edge of his bed, trying to summon the energy to stand up again, throw on his oily old T-shirt, and head out to the shed. He really had wanted to re-work that fuel gauge connection tonight. It was still rather sticky and unreliable; possibly the one thing worse than running out of fuel somewhere on the expressway was running out of fuel at an altitude of a thousand kilometers somewhere over London. He wanted to make sure that his best friend's public nickname never went from being The Boy Who Lived to The Boy Who Fell to Earth.

Dinner had taken longer than usual, what with Fred and George's usual non-stop conversation regarding the booming success of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Then Hedwig had arrived soon after the dishes were cleared with Harry's response to Ron's letter about finding Hermione. Harry, of course, had been relieved that they would at least be able to keep some track of their best friend, or perhaps even get to her in an emergency, though he did mention that just heading for the south of Scotland probably wasn't going to do the trick.

And now Ron had time to work--but there really wasn't much energy to draw upon. He'd been out in the shed late every night this week, had even been up early on the weekend to finish his chores so that he could get some more work done on the motorbike later in the day. He knew that he and his family would be getting ready to move to Grimmauld Place in a few weeks as his dad had promised Professor Lupin, and he'd promised himself that he'd have everything complete on the motorbike by then.

Thinking back to the looks on the twins' faces made him smile to himself. They really had been impressed with the motorbike. Even though they hadn't seen the mess it had been before he'd started working on it, they were still amazed by what a beautiful machine it had become. His dad had been truly in awe. _I know it looks ten times better than it did when I started,_ Ron thought. _But they were really surprised I could do something like that. I guess it must be harder to judge how something's improving when you're working on it little by little, rather than just being hit with the difference all at once like Dad was. Maybe I **do **know what the hell I'm doing._

Grinning broadly now, Ron threw himself back on the bed, arms flung over his head, legs still stretched to the floor. The light breeze wafting through the window skimmed across his bare chest and he reveled in its coolness. Lying there, concentrating on the feel of it, he noticed something else, too. He moved his arms over his head, rubbing them against the slight roughness of his brilliant orange bedspread. Something had changed.

Still lying down, Ron held his right arm up to the light from the oil lamp on his bedside table. The thought scars had faded a bit-- and unless he was going mental from pure exhaustion, they had smoothed a bit as well. It was true that he hadn't really checked on them lately, preferring to ignore them as much as he could while yanking his long-sleeved shirts repeatedly over his wrists at work a hundred times a day. Reaching across himself to rub his hand up his arm, he could feel that the bumps and whorls of the scars didn't feel quite as deep any more. The scars weren't quite as sensitive and scratchy in an irritating way, and the ridges didn't catch on the skin of his other hand as it glided toward his shoulder. _Maybe they really are healing..._

Thinking back, Ron couldn't remember any time in the past week that he'd had one of the excruciating scar/headache attacks. They'd been fairly common up until then, happening at least once every few days, but not for a while now. Oh, of course, there were twinges and shooting pains every so often, but nothing as debilitating as those awful attacks had been._ Maybe I just haven't had time to have one,_ Ron snorted,_ maybe I've just been outrunning the buggers. But Hermione said she thought the scars would go away, and as bloody irritating as it is, she's almost always right. What was it she'd said that evening on the hillside?_

I said just think positive,' don't you remember?

Hermione hadn't even stopped in the doorway to knock. She'd just strolled right into his room unannounced. Good thing he was dressed--wait--**dressed!**

Ron struggled to sit up, at the same time looking round helplessly for the shirt he'd just removed or anything to cover himself. She'd never seen him like this, wearing only his jeans and naked from the waist up--well, at least when he wasn't covered in unction and bandages and they weren't in the hospital wing with Madam Pomfrey fussing around them. But this time they were in his room, alone, and he was--he was--he felt his ears and more burning--and--what was she doing here? This wasn't Scotland, but there she was--

She yanked away the long-sleeved shirt he'd pulled in front of him for cover and held it high. You don't need this, she said. She let go and in mid-air it turned into The Monster Book of Monsters_. The book fell to the floor with a loud thump and scuttled away._

Hermione placed one warm hand in the middle of his chest, setting off fireworks on his bare skin. She pushed him back down on the bed and eased herself into a sitting position next to him. Let's see those scars.

It surprised him that he didn't feel so awkward now. Ron boldly lifted his arm to her. 

Hermione pulled his arm close and he could feel the warmth from her body overheating his. She laid his arm in her lap and began running her hands softly back and forth across the smoothing scar ridges. They're better--definitely better. 

She leaned across him then and let her fingertips slide slowly along his other arm. Both of them are better--**really **nice work, she said, the last few words in Fred's deep voice (but for some odd reason that **didn't **surprise him). If the ones I can see and feel are healing, then so should the ones be that I can't.

Hermione was leaning close enough that he could see the faint purplish line of the scar on her chest, but this time he wasn't embarrassed. Yours is still there, he said.

Of course, Hermione said. Mine is a spell scar--it can only be healed with spells. Yours are thought scars.So they can only be-- Ron began, but then was distracted by just how close she'd come. She was past the line where his scars stopped now; her hands moved in warm swirls of tingles over his shoulders, coming perilously close to moving down his chest. And her face was so close and so beautiful, her lips glistening, and those perfect teeth-- damn, he never thought he'd thank Malfoy for anything, but...

Hermione's face was within inches of his now. He could feel her chest moving against his, their breathing working together in perfect rhythm. 

I saw how you signed that letter, you know, she said coyly. You did mean it, didn't you?

This was **Hermione** acting like this? Why didn't it surprise him that he wanted her to?

Pushing closer, her lips pressed warmly against his-- **CRASH!**

  
_  
_Ron sat up so suddenly and gasped so hard that he thought he might have swallowed his tongue. His head jerked toward the sound of a glass rolling around on the floor and he moaned aloud, not for the loss of his pumpkin juice that the blowing curtain had knocked from the desk, but for the aching loss of his wonderful dream.

He considered cleaning up the mess, but noted he was still somewhat sleepy; then he made a quick decision. Standing, Ron pulled off his jeans and adjusted his boxers. Then he scrambled back into bed and closed his eyes, praying that whatever cleaning gods there were would forgive him and send him back his dream.

Hermione threw herself back in her chair, trying to figure out what to make of it. She'd read over the second parchment from the box several times and it just didn't make any sense. But Ron wouldn't lie about something like that--not to her--and he wouldn't sound so indignant if he was trying to somehow cover for himself. He simply wasn't that good of a liar.

Harry and Ron hadn't received her letters, either one of them. In fact, the beginning of Ron's second letter explained why he had sent two rolls of parchment. The first was to let her know how thrilled he was to find her. The second was to fill her in on what had been going on with him and Harry and, apparently, to complain and whine about what a terrible person she was for not writing Harry on his birthday, at least. Which she had.

(Of course, being Ron, he had made it sound as if he was doing the noble thing and complaining solely on Harry's behalf. But she knew him too well. She knew that down there somewhere inside of him, there was a part of Ron Weasley wondering just why she hadn't written to _him _as well. _Honestly, Ron._)

How could that have happened? Where had the letters gone then? She was well aware that Muggle post was famous for lost and delayed mail, but she'd never heard of it happening in the wizarding world. And although her parents' letters seemed to be delayed somewhat, they had received every single one; at least they had responded to every one she had sent. Perhaps it was time to start asking them some questions about dates and times.

Ron explained in his letter that due to an odd series of coincidences, he was now working in the Shipping Department of the Ministry as a way to earn' parts for Harry's motorbike. He was still assuming, of course, that she wasn't supposed to be sending any extra owls besides those for her parents. For that reason, he had requested that she just use the little box he had sent and the return' feature for items shipped in error; that meant it would return' to the Ministry Shipping Department and he could watch for it on the other end. Although he didn't know that she had worked out a way to use the owls and get away with it, it was looking to her as if perhaps she ought to avoid that route anyway-- at least until she had things figured out.

So, one more time, she unrolled a great, long, blank piece of parchment and set to work. _ (But I refuse to be the bad person in all of this,_ she thought, and wrote several paragraphs explaining that yes, she _had_ been writing to them, thank you very much!) Though the letters for both Ron and Harry took her several hours to complete altogether, she felt much better for it at the end, having been able to delve at least a little bit into some of the rather trying and strange occurrences that were happening at Trapperton.

Yawning, Hermione read over Ron's second parchment one last time to make sure she had responded to everything he'd told her. She rolled up her letter to him, then magically sealed it and, grabbing the already-sealed letter to Harry, went to place them both back in the same small box that Ron had sent.

But before they would fit, she had to remove the parchment from Ron that she had first found earlier today. She took it out and read the whole note one more time, smiling at his signature. Holding the parchment up to the light, she could see that the parchment was appreciably thinner beneath the closing of the letter. The outline of two or three different versions of the word had been written, then magically erased, re-written and then erased.

Several weeks ago he'd signed a letter to her with love, but something had felt odd about it, even though it looked like his handwriting. It was as if it had been forced in some way, or even tampered with by someone at the Burrow (somehow the twins sprang to mind). It simply didn't go with the rest of the letter at the time, nor with how he was acting then.

This time, though, there would have been no way for anyone to interfere or change anything. He had to have been the one to send it directly, if it had come straight from the Shipping Department as he said-- and since it came with the Trapperton supplies, he had to have been telling the truth about how it was delivered.

Maybe it was just a sign that she missed him and Harry so much--she didn't know why it meant so much to her. It was true that it looked like Ron had been undecided for a bit whether to leave the letter signed or not. But it certainly _felt _very important that, scripted in that bold, loose, irrepressible Ron scrawl--leave it, he had.


	16. Preparation and Deprivation

**A/N:**_ Yes, the last update for this story was certainly made some time ago and for that reason, along with the fact that I had once considered discontinuing this story in this venue, you may well be surprised to see new chapters appearing. Real Life for me has made it such that there was an enormous delay in not only posting chapters, but in writing them. However, I plan on catching up my readers here to the point where the story is posted at SugarQuill (in case you haven't managed to make your way there already) and new chapters should be appearing there as well, up to Chapter 22, which is still being written. I feel the writing cogs are dreadfully rusty and may take some well-placed oil and encouragement to get them moving again, but I do intend to finish this story to its convoluted end, especially after cursing the names of so many who, before me, abandoned half-finished stories that I loved and looked forward to reading. I refuse to be one of those authors, no matter to what end the story leads me. I've provided a synopsis for the story to this point to help you bridge the long, long gap between postings._

_As usual, I owe some serious gratitude to some seriously wonderful betas. Christina Teresa cheerfully and meticulously beta-read this chapter after working a double shift to get it to me so it could get to you before I went out of town, while I owe Seakays big-time for smoothing out and re-writing a paragraph that had been an impossible-to-fix thorn in my side for months. A round of applause and a shower of virtual roses for them both, please—they have truly helped me make this story the best that it can be. Happy reading! NZ_

_Synopsis:_

Ch 1: Ron and Hermione say goodbye to Harry at King's Cross after fifth year. As they're leaving, Hermione has a run-in with an ominous stranger and his mistreated dog. Ron tries to save Hermione from getting into trouble.

Ch 2: Ron frets over his scarred arms and the fact that no one will tell him what happened during the night of the Department of Mysteries break-in. He coaxes Ginny into telling him.

Ch 3: Ginny completes her story, though Ron is appalled at how useless he was in helping everyone that night, especially Hermione. As Ginny and Ron work on summer chores, Molly Weasley asks Ron to clean Arthur's shed.

Ch 4: Ron takes a break from organizing the shed to read Owl-post from Harry and Hermione. After suffering a painful attack in his arms and his brain, he discovers a disheveled motorbike covered in the shed. Ron writes to Hermione, but Ginny tricks him into signing it "Love, Ron". Hermione's invited to do a summer internship with famous zoolowizard, Dr. Christopher Null.

Ch 5: Ron is filthy and working in the shed on the motorbike when Hermione surprises him by arriving early at the Burrow. Ron explains to her that the motorbike is the one that belonged to Sirius and he plans on repairing it for Harry's birthday present.

New Scene: Ever wonder what made Ron so angry at Fred and George that he stalked away and Hermione had to go find him on the hilltop at sunset? Welcome to dinner at the Weasleys!

Hermione and Ron compare scars on the hilltop at sunset and Ron suffers another painful attack, but he's relieved that she isn't repulsed by his scars.

Ch 6: Hermione's packing to leave the Burrow for her internship without having yet told Ron she's going. Ron worries over Hermione's safety under the circumstances on impending war and decides to fly to her home to keep her from going. He sneaks down the Burrow stairs with his broomstick and is hit by something in the night.

Ch 7: Molly Weasley discovers Ron's intentions and spell-locks his broomstick in her room. Hermione and the Grangers go to the Ministry to meet with Thaddeus Sharpe about Hermione's internship, which involves a study of increased Yeti aggression and its causes. The Grangers must be Memory-Charmed as they leave while Hermione is to accompany Sharpe to her worksite, Trapperton, in Scotland. There aren't sufficient owls to communicate with friends.

Ch 8: Hermione meets the forgetful and eccentric Dr. Null, some of the large, unfriendly Yeti handlers, and the house-elves Tulip and Tod. She also learns some of the financial and political concerns facing Null as the one in charge of the research project. Ron talks with his father about the night Harry's parents were killed and how the motorbike came to be in Arthur's shed.

Ch 9: Hermione's feeling out-of-place at Trapperton. Dr. Null explains the origins of Trapperton and introduces Hermione to the lab, Starr (her first Yeti), and Dr. Voyde. Ron accompanies his father to work at the Ministry, but has to deal with Security and Bruta Fiddley. Ron finds it's all a ruse to cover an arranged visit to Harry.

Ch 10: Ron and Harry enjoy a summer's day together, discussing things both serious and fun. Ron leaves Harry with a broken motorbike part to keep him guessing about his birthday. Hermione sees Otto and Ulav either tormenting or playing with Tod, but she's not sure which. She learns what her duties will be and watches Null communicate with Starr using his card system. Ron drops off post for his father and manages to disrupt the entire Shipping desk.

Ch 11: Ron meets gruff Leo Salomon, who insists Ron come to work in the Shipping Department the next day in repayment for disorganizing his work. Hermione misses Harry and Ron. Ron meets Piddle, learns shipping duties, and finds out what Space Dislocation is. Hermione meets the mischievous young Yeti, Leif, and finds there is unrest among the Yeti males. Leo and Ron discover a mutual interest in motorbikes and Leo devises a work-for-parts scheme for Ron.

Ch 12: Starr reports to Hermione that a handler hurt her mate, Trey. Hermione gets in trouble for releasing Starr into the habitat without help, but overhears talk of the handlers about hurting the Yeti to control them. Hermione tells Dr. Null about Starr's report, but he thinks she's misinterpreted. Ron tells Leo how he got on the High-Risk Security list. Ron realizes that access to the Ministry offices while he's making deliveries might help him find Hermione.

Ch 13: Handler Sloane is nearly killed in a Yeti-session-gone-wrong, but Flaime, the Yeti responsible, eventually moves Hermione from harm's way. It appears Flaime has a deep cut on his back, but the handlers won't admit it. Hermione misses being able to talk with Ron and Harry and wonders why they haven't returned her letters. Ron recalls how his mother found out about the motorbike in the shed and learns the Decoding Spell to read the security encryptions on parcels, hoping to find Hermione.

Ch 14: Hermione learns that howls, floodlamps, and guard dogs released in the night come as a result of male challenge wars between the Yeti in the habitat, according to Dr. Null. Ron decodes an encrypted box with Hermione's name on it and vows to tell Harry she's in Scotland. Hermione, angry at Ron and Harry for ignoring, goes to visit the dogs when bored. She realizes one is Bruno and the large, gruff handlers who are at Trapperton are the evil-feeling men she met at King's Cross. Hermione finds the handlers are burning what they say is rancid Yeti food.

Ch 15: While Hermione is completing her shipping duties, she discovers a suspicious box and thinks it may be a bomb. It turns out to be from Ron. Ron, exhausted from working in Shipping during the day and on the motorbike at night, shows the twins and Arthur the much-improved motorbike. All are impressed. Discovering his scars have improved somewhat, Ron has an interesting dream about 'good thoughts' and Hermione. Hermione doesn't understand where all of her letters to Harry and Ron went.

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** Chapter 16**

Preparation and Deprivation

"Those are easy," Ron said eagerly. "I can take care of those for you." Then he tried very hard to make it sound like he could care less. "But--well--you can do them if you want."

Leo looked at him oddly, but seemed slightly amused. "Oooh,_ I_ can do them if I _want?"_ he said sarcastically, adjusting his robes over his vibrant shirt as he sat at the Shipping desk.

Ron shrugged, feeling a bit sheepish. "Never mind--I was just offering. No big deal."

"Ah, Wissle, you're just too easy a target these days," Leo teased. "Go ahead. I don't know what the big excitement is with the supply returns, but if that's what wiggles your wand, go for it."

Ron had hoped Leo wouldn't notice that he was especially interested in processing all of the supply returns. But then, Leo didn't miss much. Either way, since he was on his way to go look for Hermione's letter, he didn't give a graphorn's arse if Leo noticed or not.

"Oh--Ron--before I forget," Leo said. "Here-- this has to go upstairs this morning so you can get cleared to work those other floors."

Impatient to get to Space Dislocation for the returns, Ron rolled his eyes before turning back to Leo. "What?"

The Shipping supervisor had a short oblong parchment with blocks drawn on it before him. It had his pseudonym, Renald Wissle, written at the top along with some other information he couldn't read upside-down. "Hold up your hand--right hand."

"What's this for?" Ron asked, doing as he was told.

"Fingerprints," Leo answered. "I'm trying to get you cleared for all floors, starting today. If we don't have to worry about who does which floor, we can get more done. There are a couple you haven't been to, right?" 

"There are?" Ron asked, surprised.

"Yeah, well...thought you knew," Leo said. "New map for later, then, once these get processed. There's a floor or two where no one is supposed to deliver but me--where some, er, 'other people' work. But if we can get you cleared..." Leo mumbled a spell and some smudgy gray swirls flew from the tips of Ron's long, outstretched fingers onto the parchment in front of Leo, each landing and affixing in its own box.

"But these'll be Ron Weasley's fingerprints," Ron said. "Won't they know? How can you get clearance for me?"

"Well, for one--Ron Weasley's off the high-risk Security list," Leo explained. "I don't think you belong there--and neither does...well, the person I know."

"How do you _do_ that?" Ron asked in awe. "That must be one of the 'big blokes' you know. Really big."

Leo shrugged this time, then flashed a huge grin at Ron. " 'Course, even after all of this you still have to be Renald Wissle here, because that's who's cleared to help out in Shipping."

Ron grimaced. "Great."

"All right, Renald," Leo said in mock excitement. "You're all done for now. Better hurry off for those supply returns."

Ron tried, and failed,_ not_ to smile at Leo's mock excitement and turned to leave. But he did notice his legs were carrying him faster and faster the closer he got to where Hermione's answer might be.

Her determination had returned after another long session with Starr. It was taking too long to find hard evidence just by waiting until it appeared on its own. She was going to have to take things into her own hands—or at the very least do more than she had so far

. Starr had looked so sad that Hermione had been worried.

"Starr good?" Hermione had asked with the cards.

The Yeti had considered her answer, her expression changing very little. "Starr good," she confirmed by taking the 'question' picture away from the sentence. But as she looked down at the table, Hermione was certain that the creature sighed, then the Yeti pushed her way through the groups of cards piled at the end of the table to find those she was looking for. She pushed two cards together to form: _'Starr wants.'_

Hermione looked at the cards, waiting for the Yeti to finish the sentence. But Starr didn't make a move.

"Starr wants?" Hermione said aloud. "Starr wants what?" Pushing cards out of the way, she made a large space at the end of the 'want' card and kept pointing at it. "Starr wants what?" she repeated.

The Yeti looked almost exasperated that Hermione didn't understand. She lifted her furry arms and gestured toward all of the rest of the cards on the table. 

Hermione was at a loss. "Starr...wants?"

The Yeti just looked down into her lap.

"Starr look," Hermione said, trying to catch the creature's eyes with her own before forming a sentence on the table. _'Starr tell Hermione'_ she formed with the cards, then _'Hermione tell Dr. Null.'_

Starr was simply not the eager and eloquent student in card language today that Hermione was accustomed to. In fact, she didn't even act as if she wanted to work at all.

With a furrowed brow, Starr began irritably pushing the cards around on the table. She began with _'Starr wants'_, then at the end laid the _'sleep'_ card.

"Oh," Hermione said, "you're tired." Now it all made sense. She knew just how Starr felt. She pointed to herself, then to 'wants sleep' to let the Yeti know she wasn't alone. Things had to be even worse in the habitat than they were for her--there were no dogs in the runs to keep the more tranquil Yeti safe from some of the more aggressive ones.

But then Starr continued laying cards down at the end of the sentence. She added _fish, sun, Trey, berries, run, hug, nuts, leave, water, nice_, and _cold_ before Hermione stopped her by laying her hand on Starr's huge wrist.

_'Starr stop,'_ Hermione sequenced. _'Hermione help Starr?'_ She had never seen the Yeti act like this before.

Starr pushed all of the other cards out of the way and left just two on the table, pointing at them and looking straight into Hermione's eyes.

Hermione read the cards and nodded sadly. "All right, Starr--if that's what you want."

After the handlers had taken Starr back to the habitat, Hermione tried to complete Starr's diary summary for the day, but she had no idea how to put into words what Starr had just shown her. All she found herself doing was staring at the two cards the Yeti had sequenced last: _'Starr outside',_. 

"Oh, goody goody," Leo said in a voice dripping with sarcasm. "Looks like it's visiting time again." 

Ron had been measuring and weighing parcels in the stacks that had dwindled to only three or four floor-to-ceiling rows near the back of the Shipping Department. Hearing Leo's sarcastic tone of voice, he wondered what could be going on. Yet he was also well aware that he'd been the owner of a very large grin all morning and thought perhaps he ought to tone it down some if he wanted to avoid some serious harassment from Leo. Trying to appear considerably more sober, he wandered out to stop at the side of the middle aisle next to the supervisor.

Two house-elves, each hauling a loaded trolley at least three times his height and no less than four meters long, were trudging from the lift down the aisle to the Shipping desk.

Leo rolled his eyes skyward in Ron's direction and reluctantly followed behind them. "Who does all this belong to?" he asked, then continued with sarcasm, "And are they visiting-- or moving in?"

The first house-elf didn't seem to find that amusing in any sense of the word. He blinked up at Leo with a completely serious expression. "Visiting only, sir. From Mr. Thaddeus Sharpe these shipments be."

Leo snorted. "Of course. All right, come on over." He looked at Ron and shook his head, stepping into the aisle and around the stacked trolleys to lumber to his desk.

Ron watched the three of them walk toward the front of the room and decided to get back to his work, wandering slowly back through the stacks.

"Where's it all going?" he heard Leo ask, though his voice was fainter now.

The elf responded, but Ron couldn't hear what he said.

"Eh?" Leo asked. "Speak up, son. Did you say Trapperton?"

Ron stopped dead in his tracks, listening carefully. He absently reached for his back jeans pocket, where there happened to be a folded parchment straight from Trapperton right this moment. He'd only had a few minutes so far to rapidly read over the letter, which seemed to be the kind of crazy babble only Hermione could make over excitement to hear from him and scolding over unreturned owls. It had so confused him in the first frantic read-through that he thought perhaps he'd better hold off until he had more time, just so he could decide if it was his interpretation or her writing that had him believing one of them was totally mental.

Turning, Ron edged his way back slowly and silently toward the center aisle so he could see and hear better.

"All right, let's see what you've got," Leo said, starting to count parcels now and filling out a shipping bill. "What is all of this, anyway? Supply stuff? Goes to who?"

Again Ron couldn't hear clearly what the house-elf said, but his mumbling could be heard as he read from a piece of parchment.

"Here--why don't you just give me that?" Leo said, rather unceremoniously grabbing the parchment and holding it at the top of his clipboard to copy. "H. Granger--all right--... a-n-g-e-r...there." The shipping supervisor finished writing and returned the parchment to the house-elf. "Here you go. Tell Sharpe we'll get it out today."

"The second load will be with us returning tomorrow," the house-elf said.

"Second load?" Leo asked, grimacing. "Which just begs the question--how many more? Another one of Sharpe's grand excursions, eh? All right then-- we'll be here--waiting for you with bells on!"

The house-elf's deadpan expression didn't change a bit as he witnessed Leo's eager display of sarcasm. This must have tickled Leo even more because he was grinning as he watched the two little house-elves head back in Ron's direction on their way to the lifts. 

Ron realized he might not want to _appear_ to be standing there gawking at the whole little scene, even though that was precisely what he was doing; so he quickly ducked back into the aisle behind the boxes. _Trapperton?_ He'd have to see what all that was about later.

It had been almost a week now since the Yeti problems had begun at night in earnest. Still every night, the dogs were sent on patrol in the runs, the flood lamps were lit, the Yeti howls continued off and on throughout the hours of darkness.

Hermione had been doing everything she could to try and find out what was amiss. She had gone out again on three different evenings, trying to sneak nearer the habitat even if she couldn't actually get inside. She did discover that those authorized used a special password to visit the habitat at night, one that she'd never been given and that Dr. Null used very little. Hermione tried to find areas outside the fence where she could see within, or listen closely yet inconspicuously, in hopes of overhearing something as the handlers were working in the area. 

Oddly enough, the handlers, though they always seemed tired and were generally grubby and unshaven most days now, were in good spirits. They laughed and kidded with one another, acting as if they shared a good number of inside jokes (some of which she knew were directed at Dr. Null). It was obvious though, as she'd suspected, they all answered to Carl Smeggers rather than Dr. Voyde, but Pamela Voyde seemed to accept this and simply looked on as if it was the way things were supposed to be.

As a matter of fact, once the extra supplies had started to arrive to prepare for their Ministry visitor, Pamela Voyde was arguably the cheeriest of them all. She smiled and laughed and was a bit more outgoing than she'd been at anytime since Hermione had arrived. Of course, it was true that she seemed to be completely enamored with Carl Smeggers, from the gooey looks she gave him to the apparent welcome of Carl's hands when they landed in random places on her person momentarily in public. (Hermione could barely deal with the public side of their relationship, much less think about the private side at all.) But she had thought that perhaps that was part of the reason for Dr. Voyde's change in personality. The other reason seemed to be that she was_ really _looking forward to the arrival of Phelix Nardstone, whether in a professional or a personal capacity.

Hermione had been to visit the dogs on her outings as well. Two or three of them would even wag their tails when they saw her approaching with her regular offering of dog biscuits. This had encouraged Hermione to feel safer when she heard them in the night, growling and snarling while on the prowl, because she had an idea that even if they somehow got loose in the camp (a fairly regular nightmare of hers), they would recognize her as a friend rather than foe.

The only thing that had made her situation even a little better was the fact that now, she could at least tell Harry and Ron what was going on. Although it was true that she didn't exactly tell them _everything_ that had happened during her stay (_her_ side of the Flaime story from the training room was a grand omission, for one thing), she could at least release enough of her own tension and anxiety with what she did tell them to make herself feel better. She wasn't quite sure how Ron was managing to get her letters from both himself and Harry practically every other day, but the fact remained that he was, and every single time she read the words,_ Dear Hermione,_ the horrible loneliness she had been feeling eased. Funny enough, she somehow felt that Harry and Ron were with her on her evening investigations, and it made her bolder and more determined. She allowed herself a moment of levity over the sheer irony of the fact that it was the two boys who were warning_ her_ to be careful this time. Chuckling to herself, she wondered briefly where their first letters had gotten themselves to, and had to be content with the answer that she would probably never know.

The training sessions with the Yeti had been rather odd of late. She still hadn't personally met all of the Yeti because many of the sessions had been cut short or cancelled since the handlers weren't always available to help bring the creatures into the building. In fact, she and Dr. Null had actually taken to stretching and embellishing some of the reports just so that it looked as if his research was continuing as exhaustively as he'd previously been pursuing it. More emphasis had lately been on observing interaction in the soc labs between certain combinations of Yeti and Hermione had learned to recognize almost all of them on sight, including several of those males who purportedly were involved in the nighttime disruptions.

The Yeti, in general, were uneasy, but for reasons that were not entirely recognizable in human terms. Of course, there were the nightly disruptions, which had everyone on edge. It only made Hermione wish that she could find some way to communicate longer with Leif, or even Starr again, or perhaps even Foxer and Foxly, who might be more inclined than the adults to be honest and open with her about what was going on. But with the limited training sessions, there was little she could do to communicate with them more.

There had been a meeting about Flaime that she had been allowed to observe, although she wasn't allowed to participate or speak at all. Apparently, there had been further testing done on Flaime's wound and it was determined to be of a magical nature. In other words, the wound had to have been caused by a spell rather than a random tree branch or from scraping along a sharp rock in the habitat. But that left the problem of who to blame for inflicting the wound.

Ordinarily, it would be thought that only a wand spell could make such a laceration on a living creature, but since the Yeti themselves were such magical beings and so little was known about the extent of their magical capabilities, it was discussed that it was quite possible it had been caused by another Yeti. Dr. Null did suggest in the meeting that, considering Flaime's very sudden and negative response to Sloane in the training room, that perhaps Sloane knew something more about it and should be contacted in St. Mungo's. But since that was a rather less-than-popular suggestion with the other two officials at the meeting, Dr. Voyde and Thaddeus Sharpe, Dr. Null tabled the idea and didn't press it any further.

Null was apparently willing to settle instead for the final outcome for Flaime, which was that he would be released back into the habitat this time on something of a probationary basis: he would be free to roam as he wished during the day, then brought back into the soc lab at night. It was decided that since the attack on Sloane had taken place while Flaime was essentially a wounded creature, he wasn't necessarily completely responsible for his behavior. Yet any more highly aggressive actions against humans or other Yetis would be cause for immediate banishment to a solitary life in a distant location.

Thaddeus Sharpe had also taken the opportunity to tell Dr. Null he was aware an internal investigation would indeed take place regarding the incident, but that it was generally accepted by the powers that be that both he and Sloane held some responsibility for negligence in the mishap. The Ministry, however, was waiting for Sloane to recover sufficiently to participate in the investigation, so it would still be a while yet before it would take place. Sloane, however, seemed to have no qualms about making frequent complaints to _Daily Prophet _reporters even though he was technically restricted from telling the entire story at this point. This, of course, put the Ministry in a somewhat compromised position, politically, and Dr. Null was told by Sharpe to, essentially, "lay low".

Hermione had been so furious with the entire situation at Trapperton by the time the meeting was over that she had hoped she'd have the presence of mind to keep from shouting at Sharpe. Almost as an afterthought when he saw her, Sharpe had asked Hermione if she'd walk with him back to the lab building for his last few minutes on-site to get some reports Dr. Null and Dr. Voyde wanted him to take back to the Ministry. 

Complying with his request, Hermione made a stab at asking just what she could get away with reporting as an intern, hopefully without letting Sharpe know that she had oodles of things to report. But she wasn't thrilled at his response. Suddenly it was apparent where Dr. Null had picked up the 'hard evidence' rhetoric, because she found Thaddeus Sharpe to be even less willing to accept any word-of-mouth or so-called 'hearsay' reports than Null was. She'd given Sharpe a supposedly 'hypothetical situation' regarding a Yeti's report of events in the habitat (Starr's actual report regarding Sloane, but without the names) and wondered just how far the Ministry would go in accepting the creature's word.

"This is Yeti communication you're talking about, right? Hypothetically, of course?" Sharpe asked.

Hermione stared into his face, trying to see even a flicker of any emotion that might give him away or indicate that he was covering something up. But Sharpe was very, very good. If his _Prophet_ appearances were any indication, he'd spent years perfecting his public persona and there was not even a glimpse that he was shocked, or fearful that she knew something, or even irritated that she would bring it up. All she could see on the surface was the slick and polished facade, seemingly oozing eagerness to give an honest answer, while she knew that behind the cover lurked something more.

"Well, it's certainly a very inexact science right now, isn't it?" Sharpe asked diplomatically. "Any communications we have with other species must be suspect until the means of communication is proven completely valid. Until then, we have to assume we might be misunderstanding them."

_"An_y species?" Hermione asked, wishing she had the nerve to add,_ Even interns?_

"Well, any species with whom the communication system remains unproven or unreliable for some reason," Sharpe said. 

Hermione had never been the best at staying quiet when she had something to say. But she knew that this time, if she didn't, Thaddeus Sharpe could remove her from her position and send her home with but a snap of his fingers. No one would question his actions or his motives; it was simply his job. And what good would she be to Dr. Null, or especially the Yeti, if she was trapped at home in the Muggle world? In the meantime, they'd either replace her with someone who was sufficiently blind for their tastes or someone unwilling to help the Yeti. Or-- more likely, they would leave the position empty and cite financial reasons.

She realized that the only way to discover the truth was to stay here until she found it. And the only way to be allowed to stay was to keep her mouth shut until she had something Null and the Ministry would consider as their precious 'hard evidence'. In more than one way, Hermione thought, this might be one of the most difficult things she had ever attempted to do.

_So this is the way the other half lives_, Ron thought to himself as he strolled along the polished marble corridor with his bin. Soft instrumental wizarding music played all around him and the lighting was more of a soft glow rather than a harsh glare. Dark hardwood doors in their frames seemed to go on for kilometers on either side of him down the lengthy hallway. This was a far cry from the floor of his father's office, for sure. 

He had indeed been approved to work the Hidden Floors, with apparent thanks to Leo's amazing connections. On this floor were located the individual chambers of the Wizengamot, among other high-ranking officials in the Ministry, and it was endowed with its own special brand of Security. In fact, no lift stopped here directly from the Atrium. One had to disembark the Atrium lift in a secret location, pass a separate Security check, then enter another specialized lift to the Hidden Floors.

But Ron was only here to do his job and that was done no differently no matter where he was. He delivered his parcels without incident, though several secretaries asked to see his badge beforehand. Ron did notice that Leo had reversed the Encrypting Charm to decode the names on the boxes; nearly all of the names on this floor were ones he'd read about in the _Prophet,_ heard about from his father, or overheard in Order business at Grimmauld Place.

He stopped at the office door of Dr. Phelix Nardstone and stared at the name for a moment. That was one name he'd heard before, but there was something else about that too...something very recent...

Reaching behind him, he yanked out a fat, folded parchment and rapidly unfolded it. Ever since they'd found a way to write to one another, that's exactly where Hermione's most recently received letter was always to be found-- in Ron's back pocket. Scanning it rapidly, he muttered "yes!" when he found her reference to Dr. Nardstone. According to her, they were expecting Nardstone at Trapperton in four or five days. That meant...

_They might have a map_, Ron thought,_ or some means of describing where he's going…_

. Tucking the letter back into his pocket and plastering what he believed to be one of his most winning smiles on his face, Ron turned the doorknob and stepped inside, pulling his bin behind him. 

"Hel--" he started pleasantly.

"Leave that thing out there!" the woman in the office shrieked, making him jump before he hurriedly pushed the bin back into the hallway.

"Erm," he started tentatively from the middle of the corridor, "is it all right to leave the door open a moment, then?"

The old woman seated at her desk rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. "If you _must!"_

Ron turned his back to the woman to search out Nardstone's parcels among the others, grimacing as he did. _Well, if I'm getting anything from this office, it's not going to be easy. Bloody hell, they should have made this one of the tasks in the Triwizard Tournament... forget the dragons!_

There were three parcels, one of them marked For Your Eyes Only.

As a thought crossed his mind, Ron wondered if he could get away with it. He gave the woman the three parcels and then stood casually in front of her desk as if he was supposed to be there, taking note of the woman's name, Maudie Stampwort.

She glowered at him over the top of her pointy-framed glasses. "Is there anything else?"

"Hmmm?" Ron asked innocently. "Oh--the For Your Eyes Only parcel. I was just-- waiting."

She lowered her nose so that she squinted directly at him. "Waiting for _what?"_

"Oh, you don't know?" Ron tried to sound as if he could hardly believe his ears. "I'm supposed to wait until it's delivered to Dr. Nardstone himself if it's For Your Eyes Only. I thought everyone already knew--new policy."

"I never heard about any--new policy," Maudie said suspiciously. "But all right--here's to your new policy." She snatched up the package and stood stiffly from her desk, whipping her robe around her with a flourish to straighten it. Then she walked to the office at the back of the room and, knocking pertly on the door, stepped inside. 

Peering inside Phelix Nardstone's office, Ron could see Maudie's back as she stood in front of the man's enormous desk. The great size of the desk only emphasized the frail, wizened appearance of the old man Ron could barely see across from her. Ron could tell Nardstone was seated in a wheelchair and must have been at least fifty years older than Dumbledore.

Remembering his last bad experience with snooping on someone's desk, he at least stayed on his own side this time. But that meant he had to crank his neck around almost backwards to see the parchments laid out on top. 

There was something there, he could see most of the heading... looked like it said "Itinerary--Trapperton Compound"...but it was partially buried beneath some other parchments. Cringing at his own boldness, he grabbed the corner of the Itinerary page and shook it gently, hoping the other parchments would slide away. As the sheaf of parchments slid, he noticed that the one under the itinerary was pink and made it quite noticeable that the stack had been tampered with. He quickly pushed rest of the stack back in order.

Trying to read the page almost upside down, it did mention something about the thirteenth of August, but there was a marking before that as well. Plus, there was one of those notes at the top that he thought meant another copy was sent to someone else...he was craning his neck to see the name...

"Anything I can do to make that a bit more convenient for you?" he heard a sarcastic voice ask from across the room.

He looked up in surprise to see Maudie staring at him with an expression that rivaled one of his mum's.

She launched herself across the room to her desk. "Out! Out, you nosy blighter! Don't come back if you can help it! And if you do? I'll be watching every move you make," she vowed.

Ron stumbled over his own shoe as he scrambled to turn around and make a hasty exit. But once he was a few doors down with his bin in tow, he realized that he knew just where to concentrate his efforts now--he'd be back at Phelix Nardstone's office tomorrow--and that was enough to make him smile.

Checking his watch, he noted it was only thirty minutes until it was time to go home. He started to make his plans for what to get done once he got there, including, of course, writing an answer to Hermione. Then there were those final new parts to install...

The lift doors opened and Ron swung his now-empty bin into the row of them along the side wall of Shipping. He approached the Shipping desk, only to find two packed trolleys and a disgusted Leo weighing, measuring, and recording on a clipboard.

"Here," Leo grunted, tossing him another clipboard. "Yeah, I know we don't do this in the afternoon, but these gotta go to Space Dislocation today to go out first thing in the morning. More crap for Trapperton from stupid Pratt-eus Sharpe. Git just couldn't wait until tomorrow. Just got here, too, the --"

Leo mumbled a word under his breath that even surprised Ron. Though he was quite sure it was an expletive from the way it was delivered, he'd never heard it, even from any of his brothers, and they had quite a vocabulary of the stuff. But whatever it meant, he was in full agreement.

"I never noticed they had extra supply shipments this big before," Ron said. "I mean, I know the basic ones just go straight to Space Dislocation from Supplies and we send the extra stuff, but..."

"Yeah, it's always like this when one of the bigwigs goes to visit," Leo said, re-measuring an oddly-shaped parcel in front of him. "Most of these sites live on a shoestring budget until one of the big blokes go on a working vacation like this. Then we end up shipping all sorts of specialty items so the 'dignitaries' can be treated like blooming royalty while they're there. And what does Nardstone care, the blind old miser? Bloody farce, if you ask me."

Ron took a deep breath and started in. Most of the shipment was boxes, but along with them this time were an old trunk and a suitcase. Though the trunk was badly scuffed, apparently from years of use, he could barely make out some faint and worn initials that had once been etched on it in gold: they looked like "J.J." _Odd, that,_, Ron thought._ Shouldn't they have said P.N.?_

The suitcase was a different matter. It was definitely newer and more modern, but whoever had packed it had obviously been in a hurry or didn't care what a sloppy job they'd done. Even from the outside, one end appeared to be bulging and stuffed while the other seemed almost empty. And something small was poking out from the end. Didn't they know that when shipping something by Space Dislocation that if something was sticking out, the whole parcel could get bounced back, or worse, split into two locales?

Ron tried to push the black bit of material back into the suitcase, but the edges of the suitcase fit too tightly. Using the end of his quill, he tried again to no avail. But being that it was so late in the day, and he was tired, and this load really should have been here earlier, he looked to see if Leo was watching--which he wasn't.

So, rather than continuing to push, Ron pulled instead—hard --and the entire article came out in his hand. He stood staring at it, numb for a full minute or more. He'd seen one like it before--but where? It was last year. It was--oh my god...He purposely tried to calm himself. Ah, it was probably nothing, there must be hundreds around just like it. It couldn't be. That was taken care of; surely there was no tie-in--it had to be coincidence--and this one might belong to this "J.J." person.

But then he thought back to what he'd seen on his delivery rounds and he gasped to himself._ I've got to talk to Harry--soon!_ he thought._ And Hermione--she's got to be warned to watch herself--better yet if she just gets out of there! _

He took one last glance at the little black velvet bow in his hand and shoved it into his pocket. Then he went back to preparing the shipment, working at double speed.

Dr. Null was getting more frantic by the day.

_"How_ are we going to make sure this place doesn't look a complete shambles by the time Nardstone arrives?" he asked her again. But she knew he was only as likely to listen to her response this time as he had been the last dozen times he'd asked the question, then rushed away. 

Hermione was actually wishing she had the old Dr. Null back--the rather eccentric and whimsical one. The current Dr. Null had all of the faults of the original one along with the fact that he was irritable and impatient. Whenever she asked him if he had everything he needed to do work somewhere, he would snap "Of course!", then inevitably find he'd forgotten something and send her back to get it.

Such was the case this evening.

Dr. Null had decided that he needed to do some observations with the Yeti in the early evenings, hoping to possibly find some pattern that was leading up to the kinds of aggression that had become so common of late. He had obtained permission from Dr. Voyde for him and Hermione to observe Yeti interaction from a point close to the lab building entrance, but still in the outdoor habitat. In actuality, it was one of several areas where the Yeti usually fed.

Hermione was almost beside herself with excitement because she'd been allowed inside the habitat so little. This was finally a chance to get to see the Yeti in more natural surroundings. Even though it cut into her 'investigation' time, she decided it would indeed be worth it. It had been such a disappointment not to get the opportunity to enjoy the research work she was really supposed to be doing.

She knew that Yeti in the wild ordinarily caught their own food and that the natural 'territories' of the creatures roughly coincided with the amount of available food in each area. But here, the habitat had been chosen to provide space and protection for the Yeti; natural food sources weren't plentiful enough to provide for so many of the creatures, but food was easy to supplement.

Of course, there were occasional fish found in the small river as it flowed through the compound, but those were hardly enough to sustain fourteen creatures the size and weight of the Trapperton Yeti. An occasional bird or two was caught as well, along with toads and frogs, but to keep the Yeti from fighting among themselves or setting up defined territories within the main compound, food was supplied by the Ministry and provided several times a day in different areas.

The handlers had just brought out a number of boxes of food, packaged the same way as that Hermione had seen destroyed by the handler that first time she'd gone to visit the dogs. Of course, she'd seen a few of the boxes here and there in the compound before, but Dr. Voyde was the one in charge of ordering and receiving Yeti food supplies. 

Dr. Null was apparently finished setting up several clipboards in front of him with information on various male Yeti. He was visually scanning the portable table in front of them now.

"In the boxes--" Hermione began," --what kind of food is there?" 

"Several things," Dr. Null answered, standing now and looking around them as he spoke. "Mostly fish, some feral pigs, chickens instead of birds, nuts and berries... Doesn't matter to the Yeti if it's all in the box together. Dr. Voyde's decided what kinds of food are best for our particular group, according to their original habitats."

"And it comes from the Ministry, right? Well, their Site Supply Department."

"Yes," Null answered. "Can't order Yeti Chow at the Muggle pet shop, now can we?" The zoolowizard lifted and dropped on the table a jacket he'd brought along, but apparently hadn't found what he was looking for. "Thaddeus' -- Sharpe's-- department takes care of the orders for us."

"Do you know if their food is delivered every day?" Hermione asked.

Null stopped and looked at her, apparently starting to get irritated at answering so many questions when he was otherwise distracted by his search. "Dr. Voyde's the one to talk to about it, but yes, I believe it's delivered daily. Otherwise the food would spoil--and the Ministry gets really upset with any project letting that much money go up in smoke."

"So," Hermione spoke especially quietly now, "did Trapperton get in trouble for that food spoiling the other day?"

"What?" Dr. Null asked. "When? Haven't seen a report on anything like that--hasn't been one in months." He didn't seem especially concerned or hadn't made the connection yet.

"I, um," _Careful, Hermione, tread lightly here.._. "saw one of the handlers take a trolley full of food boxes out that road to where the dog kennels are--" Null's gaze snapped to look at her curiously, "--I think," she said quickly. "Then I saw a lot of smoke and I could smell some kind of meat being burned, so I thought--"

Null shook his head. "Have you seen my omnioculars?"

_Hermione, you're losing him..._ "No. But the food--you didn't hear about any of it going bad? Why would they--"

"I don't know," Null said impatiently. "Maybe Pamela's not got the report finished yet. Did I have my omnioculars earlier when we were at the table up front?"

Hermione sighed. _Strange for that much food to be destroyed and Null hadn't heard about it in any way... But then, maybe he was too busy looking for his blasted omnioculars to notice..._

"Hermione, could you-- ?" Null started.

"Yes, sir, I'll go find them," she said, standing and trying not to let the note of exasperation into her voice. As she descended the several steps from the raised platform from where they would be observing tonight, she noticed a familiar-looking object sitting on one of the steps. She looked back at Dr. Null and confirmed it: _Of course, brown herringbone pants…_Reaching down to pick up the Ministry-issue quill from the step, she turned to hold it out to the zoolowizard, who was apparently (_and probably futilely,_ Hermione thought) still trying to get organized.

"You're a gem, Hermione!" he said. "I only just realized this had gone missing. No omnioculars down there with it now, was there?"

As Dr. Null laughed at his own joke with that ridiculous sound that grated on Hermione's nerves, she gave a courtesy chuckle and wheeled to go before she was tempted to say anything more.

Although it was only a few hundred meters back to the old picnic table where the handlers usually held their meetings--at least those meetings where Carl Smeggers was in charge-- the area was hidden from the view of the feeding area by some high brush. The sun had just gone down and the light had only now begun to fade, but the handlers seemed to be busily scurrying around, distributing the food boxes sitting near the door of the lab, presumably to each of the feeding areas.

Hermione saw Ulav from some distance away, apparently just returning for another box of food when Otto came through the lab door. The two men had always avoided dealing with her if possible, even more so than the others, Hermione thought, probably because of the day she had seen them tormenting Tod. For that reason, she wasn't too excited at the prospect of running into them when she was alone, either, and in an area where it was difficult to be seen. As far as she knew, neither of the men had spotted her yet tonight and that was the way she wanted to keep it. So she crouched and stepped aside into the brush.

"Pssst! Ulav!" she heard Otto say in a loud whisper. "Where's Smeggers?"

Ulav looked up from where he was starting to lift another box. "Out in the habitat, you git--and yeah, he was askin' after yeh. Where the hell yeh been?" 

"That was some damned fine Firewhiskey--perhaps a bit too hairy for the afternoon, though...Overslept." Otto shrugged.

"So yer in there sleepin' like a baby and we're out here bustin' our arses to cover for ya," Ulav complained. "Ya owe us one, ya know, a big one. Ya'd better get crackin' now, though, or he'll have yer head. Both of 'em will--Carl and the doc."

"What's my assignment tonight?" Otto asked.

"Sleep patrol--you and Beamer--we thought that'd be easiest to cover for ya on," Ulav said. "Beamer's waitin' for yeh 'cause you know we gotta go in twos for that."

"Gawd, I hate that," Otto said. "Crawlin' into those smelly caves, making sure those animals are kept awake. Thank you prats for nuthin'. And it's even worse when they're--you know-- matin' and stuff--"

Ulav sneered. "Poor little you. Well, they're not allowed none of that neither, ya know. Keep 'em apart, no matter what. Dolorus Maximus 'em to death if ya have to. They get nothin', Smeggers says, nothin' that gives 'em comfort."

"I thought the doc said we didn't go whole hog on that until that--that Ministry git comes," Otto said.

"Reckon Carl wants 'em good and peeved by the time that old fart gets here. But they're gettin' real tetchy. Maybe one of 'em-- that Spyder's learnin' the drill real fast—maybe one of 'em will…you know…hear the 'call o' the wild' before then…and then we'll get a few nights' rest outta the deal," Ulav said, pushing the box he'd picked up at Otto. "Oh --on your way out to the caves--shove this over on Station Two. But be careful. Null and that kid got permission to watch over there tonight. We gotta make it look normal."

"So how we doin' this then?" Otto asked.

"Not that you should care--it's not your shift on food tonight--and don't think you're gettin' mine," Ulav said. "But usually we take half the food and split it between the stations, right? The other half goes out to the fire pit."

Otto seemed to think this was funny for some reason and snorted as he laughed. "Yeah, Mongolian barbecue."

Ulav only glared at him. "You listenin'? Full ration of food on Station Two, none on the others. Got it?"

"Yeah, I got it. See ya at sunrise," Otto said, setting off down the path next to where Hermione stood. It was dark enough now that if she took another small step farther into the bushes, there would be no way they could see her, even at arm's length.

Besides, she thought, the churning in her stomach over what she'd just heard might not stop--at least not until it had lost all of its contents. Luckily, she was in the perfect place for that. The omnioculars and Dr. Null would simply have to wait.


	17. Fate's Fickle Smile

**Chapter 17  
Fate's Fickle Smile**

"It was a black hair bow, Harry," Ron said worriedly.

"So?" Harry was only half awake.

Ron had taken a big chance by phoning the Dursleys' house via Muggle fellytone early the following morning. He had gone to the Ministry before his work hours started, telling his father that he had to contact Harry to see about a summer Astronomy assignment they were supposed to do with tonight's waxing crescent moon and that Pig might not make it back in time. Luckily, his father bought the excuse and was very generous with information on who to see at the Ministry about getting help with their three-machine Muggle phone bank. Even luckier, Harry had been the one who answered at the Dursleys', though it sounded as if it took him several minutes to realize it was really Ron who was calling and to get him to lower his voice.

"Remember the hair bows, Harry? You, of all people, should remember the hair bows..."

There was an empty pause on the other end of the line. "No, Ron--it couldn't be." Another pause, charged this time. "Could it?"

"I don't know if it is, but I'm sure as hell going to find out."

"Don't do anything stupid, Ron."

In spite of his worry, Ron smiled and wondered if Harry could see him. "Who, me? Let's just say I won't do anything you wouldn't do."

"Hmmm--now _that_ bothers me a little..."

"I'll call back at twelve. Make sure you answer!" Ron demanded.

It was still only seven forty. Most of the Ministry offices didn't open until eight o'clock. There were lots of people in the halls, but most were on their way somewhere and paid no attention to him. It took him a few tries in different nearby corridors, but finally he found one of the rubbish workers with exactly what he needed. Asking to take one of the empty cartons from the wizard's rubbish bin and dusting it off, Ron folded the flaps in and tried to make the box look like a parcel to be delivered. Then he set off for the Hidden Floors.

Although the Security people were rather puzzled as to the timing of Renald Wissle's delivery, his fingerprints and papers were all in order, so there was no reason to deny him access. He wandered to the door of Dr. Nardstone's office and knocked. There was no immediate response.

While he waited, a very well-dressed wizard appeared in the hallway. Ron said hello and pulled out his wand to measure the parcel, all so that he wouldn't look too suspicious just hanging around the hallway. Once the wizard disappeared into an office down the way, Ron tried several unlocking spells which didn't work, finally settling on and shoving into the keyhole one of the twins' tiny creations he'd brought along: the Open Sesame Seed. He waited a moment for the tiny vine to do its work inside the lock, then snake its way out of the keyhole and reach around the knob to turn it.

Praying that he hadn't just broken in while Maudie and Dr. Nardstone were watching from the other side, Ron was relieved to find himself alone in the office._ (That was too easy. Good thing these aren't the same people in charge of keeping track of Voldemort and quashing the Death Eaters, _he thought. )

Seven fifty-two--he probably had only a minute or two to find what he was looking for. But as luck would have it, the pink parchment was almost precisely where it had been yesterday. Now that he could turn it right side up he could read it much more readily. Most of the note was charmed and unreadable, but the charm was wearing thin and the last line of spidery scrawl had become visible, but only just: he saw a reference to Trapperton along with the words: "...taking care of an urgent problem".

The embossed letters at the top of the parchment were gaudily detailed and difficult to read as well, but after studying them for almost a minute, there was no doubt what they read: D.J.U. A terrible chill shivered its way through him and he wanted nothing more than to stay until Maudie Stamply or Dr. Nardstone showed up to demand they tell him who this belonged to. And if it was who he thought it was...But staying would only get him in serious trouble and again deny him the chance to do something to help Hermione. It was time to get out or get caught.

Ron's work that morning went excruciatingly slowly. The more he thought about what he'd seen and what the message said, the more worried he became. It had to be her--it had to be. Was it she who was going to Trapperton, or was she just discussing Nardstone's trip? What if she went to Trapperton and then found out Hermione was there, alone and undefended? Everyone knew she would hold a grudge forever, longer if at all possible. How much danger would Hermione be in if it was her going instead of the old miser? What _was_ the 'urgent problem (she or Nardstone) needed to take care of'?

_There's no choice now, Weasley--none. You've got to get to Hermione, and you've got to do it before there's any chance that Umbridge might get there. You've already let Hermione down once this year--how many times can you get away with it before it becomes deadly? You very nearly lost her the last time. _

At a few minutes past noon, he paced behind the middle-aged witch on the Muggle telephone they'd assigned him to use as she blathered on to someone about the poor quality of spongewort thistles these days. Finally, she finished her conversation--or she got tired of Ron's dirty looks coming her way-- and she left.

It was twelve ten and Ron really hoped that Harry hadn't given up on him or got distracted by something else. He didn't even need help to dial the fellytone number this time. Thankfully, Harry was still waiting.

"We've got to get her out, Harry--now--before it's too late." Ron knew he sounded panicked, but he really was trying to be calm.

"I can't just _leave,"_ Harry said. "I told you how things were with me when we went to Mrs. Figg's--and you saw. They haven't changed."

"But this is life or death, Harry," Ron reasoned. "Wouldn't they understand?"

"Do you think I'm going to convince Dumbledore and the whole Order to let me go to Scotland with you over personalized stationery and a black hair bow?" Harry sounded as if he would have otherwise been anxious to help, but he also sounded resigned to his current situation. "Maybe you should talk to your dad."

"No--he'll try and stop me," Ron said. "Dad's usually cool about things, but he'd never go for this. He'd keep me here for my own good--just like Mum."

"But if you told him, then maybe they'll send someone else--someone from the Order," Harry said. "They could check it out and see if it's dangerous. It can't be smart for you to go alone. What would you tell me to do?"

Ron grumbled in resignation. "The same." Then came another round of panic. "But the Order'll wait too damned long--they'll wait until they have proof or some such thing."

Harry paused on the other end of the line. "You know, that's-- probably true. Look, I've got to go, my uncle's yelling at me. I'll try to think of something, some way to go with you--who knows how. In any case, you keep working on finding out what you can." Another pause, then Harry sounded as if he'd just thought of something. "But Ron--it has occurred to you that we have no way to get there, right?"

Ron sighed. "I know-- bloody _hell,_ how I know."

What he _didn't_ know was how long he'd been pacing his room; he really didn't care. He had thought fleetingly once, and with a snort, that if he'd been sure of which direction to go and had done all that pacing in a straight line, he'd likely be in Trapperton by now. But that kind of thinking wasn't helping.

It was already rather late, but the temperature belied the hour; it certainly wasn't cooling off any. Either that, or his nerves were keeping his body temperature several degrees higher than it should have been. He picked up a towel and mopped the sweat from his face for what seemed like the umpteenth time.

What had made him believe earlier that he could actually get some sleep, he didn't know either. But since he had work the next day, try to sleep he had, and after rolling around, perspiring, and tossing for over an hour, he'd simply given up-- and gone back to pacing. There were too many things on his mind.

Earlier, Ron had written to Hermione to tell her about the hair bow and the pink parchment. He told her she ought to be looking into ways to get out of Trapperton, no matter what excuse she gave them. Although he didn't really expect her to up and leave immediately on such information after the response he'd got from Harry, he wanted to make her aware that she needed to be even more careful until they found out more about her 'visiting dignitary'. What Ron didn't mention was that he and Harry were trying to plot a way to get to her and bring her home where she belonged-- with her parents if she must, but here in the Burrow where he could keep her safe for sure, if he had his choice. He would send the letter from work in the morning.

_Hmmm...__how to get Harry away from the Muggles and away from the Order so we can get Hermione,_ Ron thought, going over every angle of Harry's situation again and again. His answer there kept coming back to two of the most accomplished and famous escape artists he knew: Fred and George. It was true that their escapes had always been quite flashy and this one had to be, well, more than discreet. But he still felt that once he explained the circumstances, they'd understand and adjust Harry's exit accordingly. Above all, they could be trusted.

The twins happened to be staying in town at their premises tonight, so there was no way to contact them now. But he decided to pay them a visit by fire as soon as he could work out a little privacy tomorrow. Unless...

_Oh, what the hell, those two don't need any sleep when all they do is play around all day anyway... _

He felt the third-floor study fireplace would do much better than the living room hearth for his purposes, even if it was old and dusty. That way he wouldn't have to pass his parents' room to get there and if he should hear anyone coming, he could quickly snuff the fire and sneak back to his room.

Inside the study and with the door closed, Ron swore once he realized he would actually have to build the fire with wood, then light it with the lantern he'd brought along. Between work, school, and the shed, he was getting far too used to using magic for whatever he needed to still be required to deal with the 'underaged' rule.

Finally, all was lit (_as if it isn't hot enough in here already,_ he thought) and he watched with some satisfaction as the numerous spider webs in the flue briefly glowed and burned. Pulling off the lid of the Floo pot on the mantel, he found available only a small amount of what looked like very ancient yellowish powder.

"Oh well," he mumbled to himself, "that's the best we've got tonight." On hands and knees, he scraped the powder into a tiny pile and threw a pinch into the flames, waiting until they glowed green before sticking his head in.

"Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, Hogsmeade," he said, hoping it was loud enough for the Network to send him there and quiet enough not to wake anyone else in the house.

Ron felt his head reeling as if it would spin from his shoulders and he immediately sensed the drawback to using old Floo powder. The dust was horrendous. Coughing and hacking until his eyes were teary, he finally found himself looking out into the design room/ production chamber/testing site/temporary living quarters of of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Two cots several feet away appeared to have great lumps of sheets in them even through the blur of tears, and he thought he could hear talking beyond his own coughing.

"For Godric's sake, Fred, get some water," he heard George's voice say.

"Right _there,_ Angelina," Fred murmured sleepily, then his tone changed. "Hmmm? Whaddyou _want,_ George?"

"Get some water, mate. Before you hack up a lung."

"I'm not hacking."

There was a pause as Ron tried desperately to get his throat working properly, but it felt more like he'd licked the inside of the Floo pot than simply stuck his head inside the fire.

"Then who is?" George asked, sounding as if curiosity was bringing him around.

"Maybe the cat--she was yacking up a furball earlier--" Fred offered.

One of the lumps of sheets sat up and looked around just as Ron managed to make a muffled, "Forghhh!"

"Fred," the sitting lump said matter-of-factly as the image of a face appeared above the top of the sheet, "Ron's in our fire -- hacking."

"Well, tell him to sod off," Fred said. "It's far too late for that."

"You all right, there, Ron?" George asked, ignoring Fred's suggestion, though he hadn't moved from the cot at all.

"Will be--think," Ron said, sounding strangled. "Need help--escape plan."

George's eyebrows raised. "Escape plan? Is that what you-- choked out?"

Ron nodded emphatically.

"Hey Fred, you'll never guess. Ron's got something interesting to say," George said with an air of surprise.

The still-reclined lump of sheets squirmed momentarily._ "Our Ron?_ You're taking the mickey. It'll never happen." But the far end of the sheets lifted and a tousle-haired, squinting Fred appeared, propped on one elbow. "Even so, can't he say it in the morning? Figures-- first time the git has something that might be worth saying and it's the middle of the night."

"Well, then," George said reasonably, "maybe we'd better take it while we can get it."

Fred sighed and threw off his sheet, swinging his feet to the floor and standing to walk closer to the fire. "Oh, all right. Who's escaping? You?"

"Well, no one yet, actually," Ron said, his voice still very thin (in addition to being secretly relieved at finding that Fred had only been with dream Angelina). He went on to tell the story about the hair bow and the parchment and the dignitary on his (and/or her?) way to Trapperton. "And I haven't even figured out a way to get there yet. But if I can find a way-- I need help with getting Harry."

The twins were finally wide awake and quite entranced by now, sitting eagerly on the edge of chairs they'd dragged up near the fire.

"Harry? But isn't he being guarded by the Order?" Fred asked.

"And watched by all of Dumbledore's little pets besides?" George added.

"Exactly," Ron answered. "That's why I need you two."

Grinning heartily, Fred's and George's brows lifted as they looked at each other in anticipation before cooing, "Oooooh, espionage!"

Ron explained that he was determined to find a way to get to Scotland and Hermione, no matter what it came to. But since he had still several bits of information he needed to get from Phelix Nardstone's office, he would have to go to the Ministry later this morning and would be unable to work out a plan to spring Harry from the Dursleys without setting off alarms that would practically circle the world. So-- under the guise of working another grueling day at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes-- Fred and George were put in charge of getting Harry to him at the Burrow or some other appointed place sometime before midnight. And _without_ arousing the Order, the Guard, the Aurors, and the entire Ministry of Magic, thank you very much.

"Less than twenty-four hours?" Fred asked soberly. "What do you think we are, miracle workers?"

He looked at his twin, both of them with brows furrowed. Then they both snorted and burst out laughing.

"Shouldn't be too much of a problem, we don't think," George said. "But for professional services such as this--we'll expect payment, you know."

"Yeah, what do we get out of this?" Fred asked.

Ron realized he should have expected as much--and also realized that the fact he hadn't made a plan for it put him at a great disadavantage with these two. He tried to remember his current financial situation in the bank under his mattress. "Erm... two galleons--" that didn't sound like enough, "--and the undying gratitude of your younger brother?"

George sniggered. "Nah. The two galleons are a start, but the undying gratitude? What can we do with that?"

Fred was looking doubtful, but then a huge sly grin broke out on his face. "Two galleons and one shot each at driving that motorbike once you get it flying!"

"But it's Harry's!" Ron protested.

" 'S okay, I'm sure he won't mind," Fred said in an overly serious tone. "We won't break it--and the bloke's like a brother to me, you know."

"Just how badly do you want him, erm, liberated?" George asked. There was a pause during which time Ron decided there was no way out.

"All right, once it's flying," Ron said in defeat. Then he looked up at the twins again. "One ride on that motorbike is better than my undying gratitude for life?"

Both of the twins sniggered as if Ron had said something as ridiculous as women ruled at Quidditch. They rolled their eyes at one another, then looked back at Ron and said in unison, "Well-- yeah."

'So are we done here now?" Fred asked. "Spies and liberators need their sleep, you know."

After making arrangements to meet for dinner at the Burrow that evening, no matter what the state of Harry's liberation by that time, they said their goodbyes and Ron backed out of the study fire. Quickly snuffing it out with water and the damper, he returned to his room, apparently as yet unnoticed.

_Now, how to find Trapperton and get Harry and me there..._ There was the rub. Unless they found a way to get to Scotland, there really wasn't even any point in putting the twins, Harry, the Order, or the Muggles through all of that. And right now, with his Cleansweep still under lock, key, and spell in his parents' room--he hadn't a clue where to start. The only failsafe he'd given the twins was to send a message by noon if he hadn't by then found a means of transport to Scotland--now the pressure was on.

"Come on, fate, help me out here--for once," he mumbled to himself aloud.

Distracted from that thought by the loud whoosh of powerful wings, Ron quickly realized that his was probably the only room in the house with lights on. For night deliveries, post owls were trained to find a roost and rest if all lights in a wizarding home were off with the people inside presumably asleep. But if there was a light to be found, the delivery was made there.

"Who would be sending post at this time of night, erm...morning?" Ron said to no one, pushing his curtains farther apart so that the large gray owl landing on the sill wouldn't get himself entangled. He looked at the owl's envelope and found that, oddly enough, it was addressed to him.

Pulling off the rattling envelope, he pointed the owl toward the tying post shelter just outside the kitchen door several floors below where there was water, food, and a place to rest. The owl wasted no time in getting there.

Ron ripped off the top of the envelope and peered in to see what all the jangling was about. Inside were a handful of keys, some broken, some bent, all old and grubby. He poured the keys out onto his bed and shook the envelope until a piece of parchment fluttered out behind them.

"Dear Ron," he read aloud from the parchment, "These were all the spares I could find in the house. I reckon it'll be rather like playing the wizard lottery, eh? But with any luck, the one that counts is here. Let me know how things turn out. Sincerely, Remus Lupin."

In spite of everything else he was going through at this instant, Ron smiled. Had this come yesterday, he'd have been jumping for joy--and he certainly was eager to try those keys--once he and Harry got Hermione to safety.

_But,_ he thought with a sigh, _I haven't time for that now. _Scooping the keys back into the envelope, he threw the whole thing onto his desk. _Harry'll__ just have to wait for his motorbike until we get back. First things first. _He started to walk away from the desk, heading back to his pacing track when the thought hit him; he stopped dead.

_Wait a minute...fate knocks on the door and you tell it to come back tomorrow? Weasley--are you mental? _

Whipping around, Ron crossed the room in two steps and grabbed up the envelope of keys and his wand; he shoved his bare feet into his trainers and was down a flight and a half of stairs before he realized it was the middle of the night. He stopped but a moment, thought_Who__ cares?_ , then continued on his way, now completely focused if also a bit quieter. As he rushed swiftly but silently through the darkness of the living room, he heard the clock chime four a.m.

By the time he reached the motorbike the anticipation was making him breathless. He was fairly certain the thing _should_ run, what with all of the parts and systems he'd replaced and restored, but now, if the right key was here, there might actually be a real chance.

After first throwing all of the broken keys into a pile on one of the tables and straightening the bent keys as best he could, he was ready to start in. He'd laid the eight remaining keys in a row so as not to keep trying the same wrong key, since some of them looked very much alike.

Ron took a deep breath and let it out. "Okay, here goes-- the moment of truth."

Swinging one leg over the motorbike, he gingerly set his right foot on the kick-starter. Other than having watched several people start up motorbikes, he had no experience with it himself. But he knew there needed to be a combination of turning the ignition key along with a great full-body push down on the kick-starter. He reached to the nearby table for the first key.

Keys one to four either wouldn't go into the ignition or wouldn't turn once inserted. Key five went in easily and turned, but though his heart was pounding, it wouldn't turn past a certain point. Key six was too bent to go in the ignition at all and Ron fervently hoped that wasn't the key he'd been waiting for. Two keys left.

Ron picked up key seven and tried to fit it into the ignition. It didn't seem to want to go, but after wiggling it a bit, it slid right in. He tried to turn it; it moved easily to the point where key five had given up.

"Come on," he pleaded, "for Hermione." Closing his eyes so he wouldn't have to see it if it didn't move, he firmly twisted his wrist.

First he felt the click. His foot sensed the resistance fading and in his eagerness he jumped up to push down with all his might on the kick-starter.

The powerful roar and the deafening bang behind him nearly knocked him from the motorbike, but he held on tight. A huge black cloud of exhaust belched from the shiny chrome tail pipes and hung in the air.

"Yes!" Ron shouted, feeling the strong vibrations beneath him and raising his fist in victory. "Yes,_ yes!"Though_ his celebration was cut short by the putrid fumes invading his lungs and making him cough, he didn't care. Somehow he'd never imagined that the burning of erl and petrol could ever smell so sweet.

His excitement was running so high on no sleep that he felt dizzy and settled on the seat for a moment. It took a few minutes for him to calm himself, during which time the fumes in the shed were getting positively beastly. He was going to have to take the motorbike outside if he wanted to to let it run and in the quiet of the night, there was no doubt that at this volume it would wake everyone in the neighborhood.

_But since it started, since it ran...could it--? Would it--? _He had to know. He had to find out tonight. This motorbike might be the only answer...

Almost sadly, and fearful that it might never start again, Ron reached for the key once more and turned the great machine off. Holding the handlebars, he swung his right leg back over the seat and flipped up the kickstand with his foot. He grabbed his wand from the table and stuck it in the back of the old and stretched-out waistband of his pyjamas, then began to move slowly and carefully through the narrow walking aisles.

Even though it was a horribly warm night, he realized that he might not want to be wandering down the road in his current state of undress. As he passed the 'M' section of his father's shed collection, Ron remembered that some of the Muggle clothes the Weasleys used for certain occasions were stashed there--and he remembered seeing just the thing for an early morning motorbike jaunt. Leaning the motorbike momentarily against a table, he sidestepped through the narrow space to a cardboard box where he thought he'd seen it last..._ Ah, yes! Perfect, if perhaps a bit warm for the weather... _Ron pulled from the box the old black leather bomber jacket that his father had worn the day of Harry's Ministry trial last summer; he slipped it on. Somewhat amazed that his shoulders actually filled out the width of the jacket, he sidestepped back to the motorbike and continued on his way through the shed.

Cautiously scanning the entire area outside the shed and seeing no one, Ron pushed the motorbike out into the open. He was thankful for the waxing crescent moon that he'd supposedly called Harry about because it shed precious little light on him and on what he was about to do.

Ron walked the motorbike down the path toward the woods, cringing with each twig that snapped and glancing worriedly toward the east for any sign of a lightening sky. He knew it had to be getting close to dawn. Finally he reached the edge of the woods. It was as far as he dared travel in case daybreak forced him to run and stash the motorbike back in the shed before the morning light showed the world (and especially his mum) his intentions.

Now to wait. Fate had taken good care of him so far tonight-- with any luck, his good fortune might last just a little longer.

And a short ten minutes later, damned if fate didn't come through again.

He heard the noise he'd been listening for begin far in the distance. Perking his ears to attention to make certain which direction it was flying, the low droning of the Muggle airplane became louder as it moved closer.

Lifting himself from the seat to prepare, he set his foot on the kick-starter once more and his hand on the key. Once the airplane overhead was loud enough to sufficiently muffle the sound of a starting motorbike, he made his move.

And start again, it did. Grinning widely again at the sound and the feel of the motorbike purring beneath him, Ron looked to the east once more and saw the faintest hint of lightening in the deep blue sky just above the hills there. He didn't have much time.

Ron first arranged and balanced himself properly on the motorbike, then he grabbed his wand. Unsure what to expect in the event that the spell actually worked right, he held tightly to the handlebars with his left hand.

Pointing his wand at the petrol tank in front and below him, he said loudly, _"Mobilithingus!" _and he waited. There was a very long, anxious pause and for a minute, Ron thought that it had all been for nothing. But halfway through his sigh of despair, he felt his heels come off the ground and the seat beneath him pushing skyward.

_All right! _Ron thought, smiling and almost breathless from the realization that what he'd been waiting for and working toward for so long was finally happening. Yet somehow the thought of what to do once he'd reached this point had never crossed his mind. _It can't be much different than a broomstick. You just hold on, balance and lean, right?  
_  
It turned out that wasn't exactly _all _that needed to be done to maneuver the motorbike, but after a good amount of trial and error (and one very near-miss with a huge oak tree), Ron seemed to have the basics of flying it. With one last _DescendoHoggus_, he let the motorbike drift to the ground and sat astride it in thought.

_Damn, this just might work! I'll bet I could remember the way to Harry's from when we took the Anglia. Then I could sneak him out... we could find our way to Scotland and then ask around for directions to Trapperton. But maybe he'd just be hacked off if he found I'd fixed up Sirius's motorbike for him then ended up flying it myself... Maybe not, if he knew it was the only way...Let's see, it must be--what time...? _

He'd really lost track of how long he'd been out here. Looking over his shoulder to the east, it suddenly became abundantly clear. Streaks of blush-colored clouds painted the light blue sky in the east and though the sun hadn't yet crested the hills, it was obvious the first peek would appear any moment now.

"Argh! Bloody _hell!"_Quickly grabbing the ignition key and switching the motorbike off, he dismounted it and began jogging alongside, pushing it as fast as he could in the direction of the shed. Once the beautiful machine was inside and covered, the key clenched firmly in his hand, it was time to try and sneak into the house before anyone noticed he was missing.

Nearly halfway to the porch, Ron was beginning to think that he might actually get away with it all when his mum appeared with a treat for Errol and the owl that had brought his keys. It was now light enough to see her walk out of the Burrow in her dressing gown, speak kindly to the birds at the roost and examine the gray owl's leg, then turn and walk inside once more.

Ron had ducked behind some brush so as not to be seen, but it also gave him a moment to think. He'd certainly need _some_ excuse for wandering into the house at this time of the morning dressed as he was... good thing he'd left the jacket with the motorbike...

"Ron!" his mother scolded a short time later, staring him up and down and scowling at him as he stood in the kitchen. "Ever thought of using a towel?"

"I musta forgot it," Ron said, shrugging and trying to sound innocent as he dripped water into a growing puddle of the muddy stuff at his feet. "It was just so hot all night and I thought a dip in the pond might be nice before I got ready for work.Reckon I left the towel upstairs..."

"Well, you're certainly making more work for me right now, you know. Stay put," Molly fretted. She rushed through the kitchen door and was back in a minute with a great fluffy towel that she shoved at him. "Wipe off and leave your shoes--then upstairs with you. I'll have your breakfast ready and your shoes cleaned by the time you change and get down."

"Thanks, Mum," Ron mumbled.

"Oh--you haven't any idea whose owl that is outside, have you?" she asked.

'Oh, yes--that was for me," Ron replied, trying not to give any specifics in his answer. "Remus Lupin had been looking for something for me for the motorbike--he didn't find much. Better run--don't want to be late." Quickly he pulled off his shoes and tossed them to the floor, immediately dashing through the kitchen door as his mum gave a bewildered, "oh".

Ron could hear her cleaning up the mess behind him. As soon as he was certain there was no chance she could see him, the cocky grin broke out on his face. _Made it,_ he thought, still squeezing the key in his fist.

Amazed that he had the energy to bound up the stairs three at a time after a sleepless night, he threw himself on his bed and shook his fist in the air in victory again, still grinning. _Now we have a way to get there, mate, _he thought. He'd have to tell Harry--but how to not ruin the surprise after he'd worked so hard to get him something so special...

_Let's see...we could go tonight.. but we have to plan this right. Last time I tried to go off half-cocked, nothing worked except to get me grounded. This time I'm going to know what I'm doing. With any luck, Fred and George'll get Harry to the Burrow by tonight--or at least somewhere I can meet him nearby. Then we can head on to southern Scotland before morning. Sure, that ought to do it. _

Hermione had told him in her last note that Trapperton wasn't expecting their dignitary for another two days yet. Once he and Harry got to Scotland the three of them could figure a way out before that person--whoever it turned out to be (and hopefully not who he thought it was)-- even arrived. Yeah, they had time enough--but they'd have to go tonight.

Standing to get ready for work and a long day of planning ahead, Ron looked down at the wet material that reached just below his knees. It was certainly a good thing he hadn't decided to take off and head for Harry's and Scotland an hour ago, in spite of how tempting it seemed. He laughed at what his own panic was trying to do to the opportunity fate had finally given him. None of the great heroes he'd ever heard of saved the damsel in distress while wearing the flimsy and outgrown pajama bottoms they'd had since they were twelve.

The worst of having to help prepare one of the large buildings for the visiting dignitary to stay in was that it was located next to where the handlers roomed. Now that Hermione was more aware of the men's 'job descriptions', it made her almost nauseous every time she saw one of them--and of course they were no more anxious to fraternize with her than they had ever been. Even more irritating, she still had no 'hard evidence' aside from something she'd overheard while eavesdropping herself, probably not a testimony that the Ministry would take as proof.

And now, she was stuck playing housekeeping supervisor. Surprisingly, Pamela Voyde had been very helpful in advising her on the preparations; the zoolowitch's congenial attitude toward her had at first shocked, then confused Hermione when she had first spoken to her civilly. Her instructions regarding the flats, though, did make Hermione wonder at the woman's ability to count.

Hermione was told to make certain the house-elves prepared no less than three of the largest and nicest flats in the building. It made sense that one of them would be set aside for Nardstone's house-elf brigade (some of which had been sent ahead already to help prepare) and one would be for Nardstone himself. But the third? That many house-elves?

She was also amazed at the amount of effort being put into making everything at the camp seem wonderful when in reality, it was all perfectly awful. Half of the time she wondered how the handlers were going to make the Yeti behave while Dr. Nardstone was here, and the other half of the time she didn't want to even _think_ about what methods they'd use to get the Yeti to comply._ If they were to comply..._

This morning Ron had sent a letter in the supply shipment and she had decided she would have to read it again more carefully later. Though she was still pleased at being able to finally communicate with him and had even received a letter or two from Harry via the same means, this morning's parchment had been full of some confusing drivel regarding a black hairbow and pink parchment. Of course, she was aware of who Ron believed the bow and the parchment belonged to, but she saw little connection to his concern about Trapperton when it was Phelix Nardstone that was coming, not Dolores Umbridge. Besides, the _Prophet _reports had it that Umbridge was taking an extended leave of absence from any Ministry work for medical (as in_ mental,_ Hermione thought with satisfaction) reasons. Somehow Ron must have got his ideas crossed up somewhere, but she'd take another look at the letter again later to give him the benefit of the doubt.

For now, there were house-elves and Dr. Null's reports to deal with-- Ron's letter would simply have to wait until tonight.

Work at the Ministry that day moved at a snail's pace. Ron's adrenalin had dwindled in the face of the repetitive work. Yawning and tired, Ron had told Leo he was going to take a nap in the back corner of the Shipping Department instead of eating lunch on his break. After enduring some pretty brutal ribbing about him starting to act like Piddle, he even took his break early when he thought he couldn't work even one moment longer.

But he was hoping for another payoff on the early break besides. Ron knew he needed to make one more run at the desk in Phelix Nardstone's office, and he was hoping his early lunch break might mean another payoff in finding Maudie Stamply gone once he was making his afternoon deliveries on the Hidden Floors. Ordinarily, he wouldn't expect to run across this much luck all put together in a month, but for some reason fate had been smiling upon him over the past few days...

...Until now. Maudie Stamply and Phelix Nardstone were not only in their office, but another five or ten other well-dressed wizards and witches seemed to be having a lunch meeting there with them when Ron walked in to make his delivery. He recognized a few of the people from the pages of the _Daily Prophet_, but he couldn't immediately remember their names--except perhaps one.

Seated immediately to the right of Nardstone himself was that man who Leo had had a run-in with--the one who seemed to manage most of the interns and was in charge of shipping items for the dignitaries' visits to the outpost sites._ What was his name?_ Ron tried to think of some of the names he regularly delivered to, hoping that one would eventually fit. Mr. Stabbs? Mr. Blade? Mr. Sharpe? That was it! Sharpe! Thaddeus Sharpe!

In the few minutes that Ron could manage to be inside the office without arousing suspicion, there was no doubt that Thaddeus Sharpe had Phelix Nardstone's ear--almost exclusively. Although it could be a perfectly harmless conversation, Ron didn't like the looks of someone like Sharpe who could have had so much to do with Hermione, speaking so demandingly with Phelix Nardstone, who would be on his way to Trapperton in a day or two.

Ron reluctantly let himself out into the corridor, knowing there was nothing more he could do to extend his stay. "Bloody hell!" he said quietly to himself. How was he going to get directions and the other things he needed now, with all of those people inside the office? And if he tried again after work hours, it would make him late for his meeting with the twins and Harry--all of which could blow up in his face should the three of them run into Mr. and Mrs. Weasley because he was running late.

_Think--think! _Ron told himself, leaning against the wall in the corridor and scowling. Determined to go on and make his deliveries, he had finished all but two offices on the Hidden Floors when it occurred to him... _If Thaddeus Sharpe is in there with Nardstone, that means he's not in his own office. Maybe, just maybe, he'd have information on Trapperton, even if there might not be anything as incriminating as pink parchment. If only his secretary were gone... _He headed for the lifts.

Sure enough, fate was still smiling on him, just on a different corridor that day. Ron had used the second-to-last of his Open Sesame Seeds to break into Sharpe's office when no one had answered his knock, only to find himself completely alone inside. He searched first the desktop of Louise, then the desk of Sharpe himself. Frustrated, he was about to leave when he spied a file with several others on the credenza behind the desk, labelled with the name "Trapperton".

Inside the file was a wealth of information. Ron folded and pocketed a map of Trapperton and the surrounding areas that had been Spell-o-Taped inside the front cover of the folder itself. Several other parchments detailed the arrangements for other interns that had been assigned to Trapperton at one point or another in the past. Finally, Ron found a parchment labelled Summer, 1995--this one must be about Hermione. But the intern on the page for this summer was listed as Dexter Orion, not Hermione Granger.

Ron was distracted by a loud noise in the corridor. People were beginning to return from lunch now and the hallway outside the closed door to Sharpe's office was becoming much busier. He knew he didn't have much more time, but he had to figure out what had happened here.

Following the page with Dexter Orion's name on it, listing him as the intern for Dr. Christopher Null for this very summer, were several other pages listing Orion's qualifications and his handwritten letter of acceptance for the position. Attached to the back of those was another parchment copy showing that his internship had been cancelled by--none other than Phelix Nardstone himself. A third parchment, dated the same day as the cancellation letter, showed that the replacement intern for Dexter Orion would be one Hermione Granger.

_Why would one intern be chosen for Trapperton, then cancelled, then replaced almost immediately with Hermione? _Ron was hard-pressed to understand the procedure for interns and the inner workings of the Ministry offices, but this did seem a bit strange. Could it be that someone wanted to make _sure_ that Hermione was at Trapperton this summer--someone who wanted her there for more than her brilliant mind and exemplary study habits?

Talking and laughing could be heard just outside the office door now. It was definitely time to go. Ron replaced and re-stacked the folders just as they were when he found them, went into the outer office, and scrabbled around in his bin for two boxes he knew were supposed to go to all Ministry offices for general delivery. He set them on Louise's desk before rolling his bin to the door. Taking a deep breath and releasing it, he opened the door ahead of him and pushed the bin through.

The witch he'd seen here just the other day was standing and talking with another witch and a wizard just outside the door. They all turned to look at him when he emerged from the office and the one he remembered as Louise knitted her brow.

"Hey--what were you doing in there--Renald?" she asked suspiciously, eyeing his silver badge.

"Just making a delivery, ma'am--left the boxes on your desk," Ron replied. "Oh--" He looked both directions before whispering to her while he twisted the doorknob freely from side to side to show it was unlocked. "And next time, don't forget to lock your door. Can never tell who might be interested in getting in there these days, you know."

"I could have sworn I--" Louise looked perplexed, but pushed past Ron to take a quick look around the office. All must have appeared in order because she blushed then and said an embarrassed, "Thank you."

It was getting later in the afternoon and Ron wondered how the twins were doing with Harry. Then, on his walk back to the Shipping Department lifts, Ron was deciding just how to go about telling Leo that if all went well, he wouldn't be here after today. The man had done so much for him, he wished he could have given him more notice. They did make a pretty damned good work team, Ron thought, and he was definitely going to miss the gruff shipping supervisor. But at least while he was here, he had nearly caught him up on getting all of those stacks of parcels out of the department and on their way. There was only a row and a half left stacked near the back of the room now. Piddle didn't even have anywhere to hide and sleep these days and made his displeasure known to Ron by sending him an evil sneer each and every time he passed him. (The sneer looked so familiar that Ron had even had the audacity to ask Piddle if he was in some way related to the Malfoys.)

Ron began his talk with Leo by telling him how fine the motorbike seemed to be running because he knew that would please him. He told him that he had tried it out, that it purred like an enormous Kneazle, and that riding it was just as wonderful as Leo had described. Then he proceeded to tell him that there was somewhere he needed to go, that it was urgent and he had to leave tonight--and that he wasn't certain just when he would be back.

Ron didn't expect Leo to be pleased and he wasn't. But he did seem to act as if he understood.

"I don't reckon this wouldn't have anything to do with that H. Granger, would it?" Leo asked.

His gaze snapping around to stare into Leo's face, Ron was almost speechless. "What?"

"H. Granger?" Leo repeated, looking at him expectantly.

"How--how did you know?"

Leo snorted. "You think the people in Space Dislocation haven't been wondering why that same little box keeps being returned and sent back to Trapperton by and for H. Granger time and again for a week now? And that no one had better get in your path when you're on your way to pick it up because you'll mow them down?" Leo laughed a full belly laugh now. "They've been asking me if everything is okay with that--it is my job to know these things."

Ron could feel his ears going hot; he looked down sheepishly. "Sorry."

"Hey, no problem," Leo said. "I was sixteen once, too, you know."

"Actually, it does have to do with her," Ron admitted, feeling his entire face burning now. "In fact, we have to go tonight. It'll be better in the dark because then, if anyone hears us, they'll think that maybe it's just a Muggle airplane."

Leo's eyebrows lifted and he looked at Ron quizzically. "A Muggle airplane?"

Realizing his mistake from the tone of Leo's voice, Ron tried desperately to think of some way to cover himself. "Erm, I meant a train. Told you I was really tired. A train, of course-- well, they do sound a bit different. I mean, if an airplane was going by, then maybe they wouldn't --"

"Wissle!" Leo interrupted. "You're not by any chance going to_ fly_ that motorbike to Scotland, are you?"

Sputtering, Ron could think of nothing else to say. "Erm, actually--"

Ron was rather famous for his ability to bluff his opponents at chess, partly because he'd trained himself not to let them read his thoughts in his expression. But apparently that ability wasn't quite as strong when he was this tired and frantic.

Leo read him like a book. "Well, I'll be damned--you lucky son-of-a-- that flying motorbike really does exist! And everyone I ever knew always thought it was legend! Are you like--some secret government agent or something?" Leo stopped and spoke in a very affected, deep voice. "Wissle--Renald Wissle--double-o-sixteen." The huge man laughed hard at his own joke.

Ron was too stunned to say anything. He just shook his head and smiled lamely.

"You have my word, Ron --if something led that motorbike to you, there was a purpose--and likely a damned important one, too. They'll never get it out of me where you are-- erm, I take it your parents are in full support of this, right? So if your dad comes down here asking questions, I should assume he knows everything?" Leo's eyes twinkled as he watched for the look of panic on Ron's face this time.

"No--erm, actually, they don't really know--"

Leo smiled at him warmly. "Then I just forgot everything you just told me. Memory like a sieve, I tell ya."

Ron returned his smile. "Thanks."

"Oh--" Leo said, reaching into his pocket. "Here." He held out four Galleons, several Sickles, and some Knuts, dropping them into Ron's hand when he held it out in confusion.

"What's this for?" Ron asked.

Leo shrugged. "Doesn't matter--call it back pay."

"But I still owe you for parts."

Leo pursed his lips and frowned. "All right, then. Which of those parts that I brought you make that baby fly?"

Ron was surprised by the question. "I don't know for sure--it's, you know, not in any of the manuals--but probably parts of the accelerator and the suspension."

"Then some of those parts are on me," Leo stated. "This is just me being selfish, you know, so don't you think nothin' of it. When will I ever get the chance again to claim I contributed to something as famous as that motorbike? That, technically, I bought some of those parts to keep it running? It's like being a bloody celebrity or somethin'. It would be an honor just to know for the rest of my life that I helped put that motorbike back together for Harry Potter. An investment, of sorts-- and braggin' rights, if nothing else."

Ron shrugged this time. "Just don't go bragging until we get Hermione back, okay?"

"Ay, yes," Leo said. "The fair maiden--waiting to be rescued by her knight on shining armor."

Ron coughed at the absurdity of the joke. "Er... yeah."

"Wait a minute," Leo said, "You're going to be flying into Trapperton, right?"

"Yeah."

"You're not leaving until I make one last delivery," Leo said. "Otherwise, you can kiss those letters of recommendation from me goodbye. You're gonna stay put, right?"

Ron looked at the clock. Technically, he still had thirty minutes of work left; it probably wouldn't do for him to get home any earlier than normal--or do anything any differently than normal if he was going to do this without being caught.

"I'll be here," Ron said.

It took Leo nearly twenty minutes to make his 'final delivery'. But he returned with a bit of parchment on which a somewhat complicated combination of spells and charms was written. He handed the parchment bit to Ron. "A farewell present for you."

Ron shook his head in disbelief. "This couldn't be what I think it is."

"Okay, whatever you say. But it is," Leo said.

Written on the bit of parchment were the means to reverse the security spells on the main camp at Trapperton.

"How in the hell did you get this?" Ron asked.

Leo simply smiled. "Haven't I told you a hundred times before? I--"

"Know someone," the two of them said together in unison, laughing.


	18. Espionage and the Hesitant Hero

Chapter 18

Espionage and the Hesitant Hero

It was getting late in the afternoon and Ron wondered how the twins were doing with Harry. Then, on his walk back to the Shipping Department lifts, Ron was deciding just how to go about telling Leo that if all went well, he wouldn't be here after today. The man had done so much for him, he wished he could have given him more notice. They did make a pretty damned good work team, Ron thought, and he was definitely going to miss the gruff shipping supervisor. But at least while he was here, he had nearly caught him up on getting all of those stacks of parcels out of the department and on their way. There was only a row and a half left stacked near the back of the room now. Piddle didn't even have anywhere to hide and sleep these days and made his displeasure known to Ron by sending him an evil sneer each and every time he passed him. (The sneer looked so familiar that Ron had even had the audacity to ask Piddle if he was in some way related to the Malfoys.)

Ron began his talk with Leo by telling him how fine the motorbike seemed to be running because he knew that would please him. He told him that he had tried it out, that it purred like an enormous Kneazle, and that riding it was just as wonderful as Leo had described. Then he proceeded to tell him that there was somewhere he needed to go, that it was urgent and he had to leave tonight--and that he wasn't certain just when he would be back.

Ron didn't expect Leo to be happy about the news and he wasn't. But he did seem to act as if he understood.

"I don't reckon this wouldn't have anything to do with that H. Granger, would it?" Leo asked.

His head snapping around to stare into Leo's face, Ron was almost speechless. "What?"

"H. Granger?" Leo repeated, looking at him expectantly.

"How--how did you know?"

Leo snorted. "You think the people in Space Dislocation haven't been wondering why that same little box keeps being sent and returned from Trapperton by and for H. Granger over and over for a week now? And that no one had better cross your path when you're on your way to pick it up because you'll mow them down?" Leo laughed a full belly laugh now. "They've been asking me if everything is okay with that--it is my job to know these things."

Ron felt his ears going hot; he looked down sheepishly. "Sorry."

"Hey, no problem if you watch yourself," Leo said. "I was sixteen once, too, you know. Though we did scan that box for Explosion Spells--just in case."

Ron rolled his eyes.

"...And after finding out you just 'happen' to know the Ministry Security Charm for decoding encrypted names..." Leo said accusingly.

Ron grimaced. "You know about that, too?"

"Careful who you under-estimate, Wissle," Leo warned. "Good thing I trust you, though heaven knows why. But I figured it was all for the same noble cause. She must be some little witch."

"Actually, it does have to do with her," Ron admitted, feeling his entire face burning now. "In fact, we have to go tonight."

"We?" Leo repeated. "You mean, you and-- " He looked at Ron expectantly.

Ron nodded. "Yeah--him. It'd be better in the dark because then, if anyone hears us, they'll think that maybe it's just a Muggle air-o-plane."

Leo's eyebrows lifted and he looked at Ron quizzically. "A Muggle _airplane?"_

Realizing his mistake from the tone of Leo's voice, Ron tried desperately to think of some way to cover himself. "Erm, I meant a train. Told you I was really tired. A train, of course-- near the road -- well, they do sound a bit different. I mean, if an airplane was going by, then maybe they wouldn't --"

"Wissle!" Leo interrupted in a tone that stopped Ron short. "You're not by any chance going to_ fly_ that motorbike to Scotland, are you?"

Sputtering, Ron could think of nothing else to say. "Erm, actually--"

Ron was rather famous for his ability to bluff his opponents at chess, partly because he'd trained himself not to let them read his thoughts through his expressions. But apparently that ability wasn't quite as strong when he was this tired and frantic.

Leo read him like a book. "Well, I'll be damned--you lucky son-of-a-- that flying motorbike really does exist! And everyone I ever knew always thought it was legend! Are you like--some secret government agent or something?" Leo stopped and spoke in a very affected, deep voice. "Wissle--Renald Wissle--double-o-sixteen." The huge man laughed hard at his own joke.

Ron was too stunned to say anything. He just shook his head and smiled lamely.

"You have my word, Ron --if something led that motorbike to you, there was a purpose--and likely a damned important one, too. They'll never get it out of me where you are-- erm, I take it your parents are in full support of this, right? So if your dad comes down here asking questions, I should assume he knows everything?" Leo's eyes twinkled as he watched for the look of panic on Ron's face.

"No--erm, actually, they don't really know--"

Leo smiled at him warmly. "Then I just forgot everything you told me. Memory like a sieve, I tell ya."

Ron returned his smile. "Thanks."

"Oh--" Leo said, reaching into his pocket. "Here." He held out four Galleons, several Sickles, and some Knuts, dropping them into Ron's hand when he held it out in confusion.

"What's this for?" Ron asked.

Leo shrugged. "Doesn't matter--call it back pay -- and just in case."

"But I still owe you for parts."

Leo pursed his lips and frowned. "All right, then. Which of those parts that I brought you make that baby fly?"

Ron was surprised by the question. "I don't know for sure--it's, you know, not in any of the manuals--but probably parts of the accelerator and the suspension."

"Then some of those parts are on me," Leo stated. "This is just me being selfish, you know, so don't you think nothin' of it. When will I ever get the chance again to claim I contributed to something as famous as that motorbike? That, technically, I bought some of those parts to make it run again? It's like being a bloody celebrity or something. It would be an honor just to know for the rest of my life that I helped put that motorbike back together for Harry Potter. An investment, of sorts-- and braggin' rights, if nothing else."

Ron shrugged this time. "Just-- please don't go bragging until we get Hermione back, okay?"

"Ah, yes," Leo said. "The fair maiden--waiting to be rescued by her knight on shining armor."

Ron coughed at the absurdity of the joke. "Er... yeah."

"Wait a minute," Leo said. "You're going to be flying into Trapperton, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then you're not leaving until I make one last delivery," Leo said. "Otherwise, you can kiss those letters of recommendation from me goodbye. You're gonna stay put, right?"

Ron looked at the clock. Technically, he still had thirty minutes of work left; it probably wouldn't do for him to get home any earlier than normal--or do anything any differently than normal if he was going to get through this without him and Harry being caught.

"I'll be here," Ron said.

It took Leo nearly twenty minutes to make his 'final delivery'. But he returned with a bit of parchment on which a somewhat complicated combination of spells and charms was written. He handed the parchment bit to Ron. "A farewell present for you."

Ron shook his head in disbelief. "This couldn't be what I think it is."

"Okay, whatever you say," Leo said, grinning. "But it is. Be careful, though--that spell reversal's used for testing by Ministry Maintenance - only lasts a few minutes-- maybe four or five."

Written on the bit of parchment was the means to temporarily reverse the Security Spells on the main camp at Trapperton.

"How in the hell did you get this?" Ron asked.

"Haven't I told you a thousand times before? I--"

"--Know someone," the two of them said together in unison, laughing.

This didn't look good.

Ron had just walked into the kitchen at the Burrow after Flooing in from work. Everyone he expected to be there was: his mum, his dad (who had Apparated a short time earlier), Ginny, Fred, and George. But the twins just weren't acting as he expected somehow. Obviously Harry couldn't be _here_ with them since his escape had to remain a secret, but still...

"Hello, everyone," he said, trying to appear chipper when all he wanted to do was grab Fred and George by their shirtfronts and demand, "Where's Harry?"

The two of them were doing a good job of sounding deeply involved with everyone in the conversation about the newest celebrity on the wireless. But George was the one who took the opportunity to signal Ron. Since his face wasn't visible to the rest as they turned to greet Ron, George pointedly rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, promptly rubbing his cheek on the side closest to Ron with two fingers held in a "V" formation.

Ron tried not to smile. The message was obvious: upstairs, two minutes. _Ah, those two were born for a life of sneaking about,_ he thought, believing that perhaps they had actually delivered Harry right into his room. _Brilliant, they are, if they managed that! _"Right, then," he said, turning to go back through the door he'd just come in. "Reckon I'll be off to change before dinner." A quick glance in George's direction to confirm and he was gone.

The twins walked through Ron's door precisely two minutes after he'd arrived to find nothing different about his room other than the fact that the ghoul had left a small mound of wood shavings piled on his bed.

"There's a problem," Fred started quietly, flopping into the squashy orange chair.

"With that delivery you wanted us to make," George continued, flopping onto the bed and flicking the shavings off the far side.

Ron, still standing, had been looking out of the window in tense confusion before he crossed the room to close the door. He'd been right-- this didn't look good-- and his tension cranked up a notch with every word the twins uttered. "What problem?"

"Can't be today," Fred said. "No delivery today_-- or_ tonight."

_"What?"_ Ron asked in disbelief. "But you said you could do it! We've _got _to go tonight! We can't wait-- what if their 'dignitary' arrives early? We might not be able to get Hermione out."

"No choice, Ron," George said quietly. "Even _we_ wouldn't be able to slide Harry past Moody and Tonks--and that's who's on watch until noon tomorrow."

"Noon _tomorrow?_ Maybe they change shifts before that--twenty-four hours seems like an awfully long watch," Ron said. "How do you know they're on until then?"

"Tsk, tsk, little brother. So little faith," Fred said, shaking his head at his twin. "Oddly enough, Arabella Figg was today's winner of our weekly drawing for the Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes sampler pack. Right, George?"

_"__Amazing _coincidence, that," George agreed, winking. "Anyway, once we were in the neighborhood to deliver it to her, it would have been utterly rude not to stop by and see our old friend Harry this afternoon, knowing that he's had a time of it lately and all. In fact, Mrs. Figg was all in favor of it-- was even kind enough to let us know that she would be watching the poor boy with Dung Fletcher tomorrow noon. Makes getting him out then look a lot more promising."

Ron grimaced. "But --_ tomorrow..."_ he moaned. "And Pig's not back yet. I've got to let Harry know--"

"Oh, he does," George said. "And he thinks you ought to go tonight, too -- without him -- and let him catch up if we can get him out."

Ron was dumbfounded. "Go -- without Harry?" He'd never considered that. Him? Alone? On a rescue mission? Of course, he'd been willing to fly alone to Hermione's house. But that was an entirely different matter. The flight itself was risky, but he knew he'd be landing in friendly territory (well, once Hermione was done being furious with him). He'd flown the Anglia to Hogwarts, but Harry was there...Harry was _always_ there... Yet at Trapperton he wasn't sure just _what_ he was flying into--or what he'd find once he landed. And _alone?_ The scars on his arms began to hurt and his head was buzzing just thinking about it. "I don't know..."

"Harry said you'd say that," Fred said. "He knows the Order is watching him like a hawk-- says they even have aTracking Spell on his broom. But he thinks you should go on, in case something goes wrong on his...our...end-- said at least one of you would be there to help Hermione that way. Harry seemed to think you could get away with being gone longer than he could without anyone checking up on you. "

"Not to mention he was acting really weird when he said you ought to go tonight," George added to Fred's vehement nods.

"Weird?" Ron asked, looking up from where he'd been staring at the floor in thought.

"Yeah," George answered. "Kept rubbing the back of his right hand--and he was _dead_ serious."

_Rubbing the back of his hand?_ Ron thought. Yeah, so he had Harry thinking on it now, too. _But I don't know if I can do this alone. _

Fred suddenly squirmed his way up to sit straight in the squashy chair. "What time is it?"

George looked stricken and checked his watch. "Show time. We'd better get downstairs. Ron, you're off to the third floor hearth--Harry should be there in a bit, checking in from Arabella's, though Godric knows what he told her. The kid's bloody briliant at working his way around stuff like this, did you know? Anyway, we've got to make sure he hits the third floor hearth with the Floo, so we're off to the first floor in case something goes amiss."

"But--what's--" Ron stammered.

"Don't know. He wanted to talk to you. 'Personal message,'" he said." George spoke the last words while on his way out, but stopped in the doorway when he saw Ron standing there, bewildered. "Well? Go!"

Ron shook himself out of his trance and headed for the third floor. He quickly built a fire, cursing when he burnt himself while not paying attention. Luckily, he didn't have to wait long. Harry's head appeared in the green flames and Ron fell to his knees so they could talk quietly.

"Ron! You there? I haven't much time, but--"

Ron could hear a woman's voice in the background from Harry's end, but he couldn't make out what it said.

Harry turned to the side. "Out in a moment, Mrs. Figg! I'm still looking in here for Muffypoo!" He looked back at Ron and rolled his eyes heavenward, shaking his head. "The things I do for you and Hermione!"

In spite of the seriousness of the situation, Ron couldn't help himself and smiled. He noted Harry looked much more like himself now that he was planning a way to get a break from Privet Drive and the Security Brigade. It felt too good to see Harry not to make him feel a little better, too--and besides, he couldn't pass up an opportunity like that. "Muffypoo?"

"One of her blasted cats--had to cat-nap the thing earlier and keep it in a sack under the front porch so I could tell Tonks and Moody I was coming to help her find it. Anyway-- here's the thing--you've got to get to Hermione, Ron--tonight. And I wanted to tell you in person to make _sure_ you'd promise me you'd go."

"I know you said that--the twins told me. But it'd be better if I waited for you, so we could--"

"No! I'll get there as soon as I can--if I can. But if you've found a way to get to Scotland, you need to get there. Tonks and Moody go to this place just over the back fence in the alley to check in when they're coming on watch. They talk for a while usually-- before they patrol--and sometimes about what they've read in the _Prophet _.Of course, they don't know that if I hide behind the hydrangeas, I can hear them - it's the only way I get any news from the wizarding world. Tonks was going on about how stupid the papers were to print rubbish when so many people knew it wasn't true. She went on about some other stuff, but eventually she said: 'Like, for instance, printing that Dolores Umbridge is in St. Mungo's for 'medical reasons' when lots of people, including Kingsley Shacklebolt, would _swear_ they saw her in the Ministry of Magic just this week."

Suddenly Ron didn't feel well. Something awful seemed to crawl up into his throat from his stomach and he wasn't certain it was going to stay put. "This week?" he squeaked out.

"Yeah--so she's not where the papers think she is--or where they're saying she is. But we don't know why not. Think, Ron. You didn't see anyone at the Ministry lately who could have been her, did you?"

Ron didn't have to think long. "No...no...I've been trying to put this thought out of my mind for a couple of days now, so I'm sure if I'd seen someone who resembled her...But see, it would depend on the timing, too. I'm hardly ever upstairs in the mornings, so if she was there then...Maybe I should go in to work for another day tomorrow, to see if I can find her and what she's up to--"

"But what if she's already gone? What if you miss her somehow?"

"But if I could find her and find some way to intercept her--"

"How are you going to do anything in the middle of the Ministry of Magic? And _what_ are you going to do? Make a wizard citizen's arrest for not being wherever the papers say she is?"

Ron frowned and sighed. "Bloody hell, Harry, what are we going to do?"

"Well, _you're_ going to Scotland, that's what," Harry said. "And I'm going to find out what else I can and get there as close behind you as possible. The only reason I wouldn't go is if the twins tell me that you've made it there and back again with Hermione before I find a way out. You're leaving a copy of the map with the twins, right?"

"Yeah." Ron could hear the woman's voice screeching in the background again.

"Come on in, Mrs. Figg," Harry called to the side again. "What? It's locked? And the key's gone? How did that happen? Well, just a moment--I'm under the table--be right there." Harry spoke in what Ron knew to be his friend's best tone of mock-innocence; of course, Harry was also holding up a door key for Ron to see. "She'll be off to get Moody and Tonks outside in a minute--I'd better go. Hey-- how are you going to get there after all?"

"Er, oh yeah--about that," Ron stammered. "Well, I thought we'd be going together and I found this way, but I'm not sure now--"

"What? You found a way for two people to go, but it won't work for one? What is it? Another car? I know it can't be your broomstick because that's definitely a one-seater."

"No--no broom--still under spells," Ron said vaguely. "Well, what I have'll work for one, but that's not exactly the problem. It's just--"

_"What?" _Harry kept glancing nervously to the side as if someone was likely to walk in the door on his end at any moment.

"Harry, what if a bloke has something he's fixed up for someone else, but the first bloke finds he needs it before he gives it to the someone else? Would it be wrong if the bloke used it and then made sure it was still rightfully fixed up all special for the someone else later?"

Harry shook his head in confusion. "Ron, what _are_ you on about? You find any way you can to get to Hermione. We don't know if it's a life-and-death matter yet, but if Dolores Umbridge is somehow mixed up in it, it can go that way pretty fast. And I'd say if that's the case, then anything goes to make sure things turn out all right. I gotta go. Good luck, and I'll be there soon as I can." Harry's head disappeared and the flames in the hearth returned to a golden yellow-orange.

Ron sat back on his heels to think for a moment. Harry's news about Umbridge being out and about was not at all what he'd planned on. In fact, not much about this whole escapade was turning out the way he'd planned. This morning, he'd figured that by now, Harry would be waiting for him at the twins' shop or somewhere and that they'd get together, plan out exactly where to go, then simply ride off on the motorbike together to save Hermione. But there was no reason to even think about that now...

Apparently, time was even more of the the essence than Ron had originally thought. Harry was right; he needed to go tonight. What if Hermione had been wrong about the arrival date of their dignitary? What if Umbridge was following her own agenda rather than Phelix Nardstone's itinerary?  
_  
What if you can't get Hermione out by yourself, Weasley? _For the first time in a long time, the scars on Ron's arms began to tingle ominously, then pull tighter and tighter. Pain seeped in through his scalp and fired straight for the center of his brain, bouncing from there to connect with the throbbing in his arms. He wrapped both arms around his head, feeling he had to hold tight just to keep his skull from exploding from his shoulders. He could feel his face contorting and he fought to stay upright in his kneeling position, breathing in gasps, then holding it to try and control the pain. How could he even _think_ about trying to go and save Hermione like this?

Hermione...thinking...his dream...Slowly, vaguely, through a white, veiled haze far away from the blinding red pain, Ron fought to remember an image of Hermione sitting on his bed, telling him to think positive thoughts. She'd told him that was the only way to heal his thought scars, both those that could be seen and those that could not. He concentrated hard on that image and that idea, and the pain began to lessen a little.

He wasn't completely a stupid git, after all. And he didn't always need Harry. _He'd_ been chosen as prefect over anyone else in his year. _He_ had been the one who'd made the critical plays to win the Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor without either his brothers _or_ Harry. He'd managed to rebuild Sirius' motorbike when even Hermione had been in doubt. And he'd managed to find her when she was an entire country away. He could do this.

And he had to.

Intentionally or not, he had completely bolluxed his chance to keep Hermione out of harm's way in the Department of Mysteries. It wouldn't happen again. Not on his watch. He was ready, he was damned well willing, and he would force himself to be able.

_He could do this. _

Struggling to his feet from his kneeling position before the fireplace, Ron cautiously removed his arms from around his head. The pain was diminishing -- once again, Hermione had been right. Now it was up to him to give her the chance to be right for many years to come.

He considered skipping dinner to get everything prepared, but he just as quickly dismissed that as a bad idea. Missing dinner would only raise suspicions that something was afoot, even if it turned out to be just his mum wondering if he was feeling well. He didn't want anyone to be watching him more closely than usual tonight -- things were going to be difficult enough as it was. Besides, perhaps he'd better get something into that stomach that was queasy with excitement and apprehension. Though he had fully intended for him and Harry to be back here with Hermione before this time tomorrow evening, the plans were already going awry, and who was to say just when he would manage to find something besides a year-old Peanut Poltergeist to give him some much-needed energy?

Steeling himself to act as calm and normal as he possibly could while his mind and heart were racing, Ron walked to his room, quickly changed clothes, and headed downstairs to dinner.

"Yes, but how are we going to manage to get anything done in the shop when one of us has to be hiding all the time?" Fred asked, bouncing a small squishy ball off of the cabinet next to him and catching it repeatedly as he talked.

"Easy. We don't," George answered, leaning back coolly against a table behind him and quickly pushing upright again once the table began to give way. "There's a wall between the front and the back rooms, no? And just this morning while you were at Popple's for the Mungwood, I hired a fairy to watch the front door. Starts tomorrow, he does."

Fred and George were chattering away at one another while Ron did some last-minute checking on the motorbike systems. The three boys had managed to make their way through dinner without giving away anything and had decided on their way to the shed (where they thought they might have some privacy to discuss details) that they'd done a bang-up job indeed on deceiving virtually everyone.

"A fairy?" Fred asked in disbelief.

"Yeah," George said. "He comes highly recommended--and he'll work for cheap."

"Well, that's all good then. But there's no need to make comment on his personal life, you know. Strictly speakin', it's against the law."

George looked perplexed. "His personal life?" He furrowed his brow and was uncommonly quiet for a minute or two; then came the look of realization. "Oh -- I didn't hire a _poof,_ you dolt! I hired a_ fairy! _Well, he's _part_ fairy, anyway, though he hardly sounds like one-- but the wings are real. He's agreed to live over the door and let us know in the back when anyone's come in. Can be a bit tetchy sometimes--tends to blow his cigar smoke in people's faces when he's hacked off, his old employer says -- but I think he'll come 'round. Besides, maybe that'll discourage some of our more, erm, unpleasant customers. We can afford to be a bit pickier these days."

Fred gave his twin a nod of understanding. "Hmm. Sounds like a plan -- and it just might work, even for this."

"Yeah, see? We can just keep on with our invention work in the back," George explained. "When someone comes in, Howard checks them out -- Howard's the fairy, 'course. So the fairy checks them out--if they're customers on the list we've given him, he comes back to let us know and _one_ of us goes out front. If they're someone we don't want to see, he tells them we're out. Simple."

"Brilliant, George," Fred agreed. "Do I want to know where you found this bloke?"

George considered for a moment. "Mmm -- no."

Fred was nonplussed. "All right then. So - you filled in on the plan then, Ron?"

"You've told it to me in bits and pieces, but I don't think I've ever heard it start to finish," Ron said, standing from his squatting position on the far side of the motorbike to pull at a loose cable and tuck it in tighter.

"So we find a way to liberate Harry from Privet Drive tomorrow--" Fred began.

"That's all you've got?" Ron asked. "You 'find a way'?"

"Well, when you're dealing with something like this first part, you have to kind of play it by ear, you know?" George explained. "We_ think_ it will have something to do with sending a note to Dung Fletcher about some outrageous deal on Dustless Floo Powder for him to fence. Then we'll have him meet us somewhere that we're _not _going to be, but we haven't worked out the details, no."

"We _think_ we can entice him away from being on watch, if only for a short while," Fred said. "Then all we have to deal with is Mrs. Figg--and that's a piece of cake, right, George?"

"Right. But it gets better after that," George said with an encouraging tone. "You see, we have Harry leave his wand at Privet Drive, because that's the way they'd be most likely to track him."

"That and his broomstick," Ron said. "But that leaves him defenseless-- and grounded--"

Fred held up his hand, palm forward. ""Hold on, hold on, don't get ahead of us. This is _our_ bit of espionage, you know--you have your own to play with."

Ron rolled his eyes. "All right. Go on."

George sighed. " Where were we? Oh, yes. After that, we're going to give Harry Fred's--"

"No, George's--" Fred interrupted.

George frowned. "No, _Fred's _broomstick and wand so that if the Aurors or anyone is checking to see who's flying to Scotland, the magical tracker will show it as Fred Weasley instead of Harry Potter. It's perfectly feasible that we'd fly to Scotland on business, right?"

"We're also going to have Harry tie on another broomstick registered to the shop, and this is where another piece of brilliance kicks in to cover your arse, dear brother," Fred added. "The extra broomstick will make it look as if there are two people flying together. Then we tell everyone that you went with George--"

George flinched. "You mean Fred--"

"No,_ George,_" Fred said tersely, but with a twinkle in his eye, "because we needed Ron to help us find a source for a particularly combustible type of Muggle fuel he happened to have worked with--something to make our explosives just a bit more spectacular. Only thing we have to worry about is to make sure that we know which of us is supposedly flying to Scotland and_gone__--"_ Fred glared at George, "--and that people can only ever see one of us at a time."

"Bloody brilliant, eh?" George asked. He and Fred looked at one another, then back at Ron, both of them beaming.

"Not bad, not bad. So what do you tell the Order when they notice Harry's gone?" Ron asked.

"This is where it gets a bit dodgy," Fred said.

"We think we can play the old shell game with Harry's whereabouts for a day or two, but you two can't be dawdling around there in Scotland," George said. "We can't hold out forever on this one. The Order's just too damned good."

"The old shell game?" Ron asked, setting the twins off again.

"A Muggle magician's invention to make you _think_ something's in a certain place--" Fred said.

"--Where it may or may not be. We learned about it in Muggle Studies."

"Well done for a Muggle invention, too. If we can get Harry's relatives to believe Harry's at the Burrow--"

"And Mum and Dad still believe that Harry's with his relatives--"

"Then if we can manage to dodge the Order for a few days -- with the fairy's help, I reckon--" Fred glanced at George, who nodded.

"With any luck, we can keep them confused enough --or in transit between the Burrow and Privet Drive enough-- that it should give you two some time to work."

"Yeah," Ron snorted. "As long as we don't go through all of this just to have the Order and Mum and Dad kill us all several times over."

"Oh, but that's_ your_ part," George said. "We're depending on you and Harry to make everyone see the urgency in Hermione's situation. Otherwise, our gooses are all well-cooked."

"Oh, that makes me feel loads better," Ron said, feeling the weight of both his nerves and his decision to go to Hermione's rescue. As worried as he was that Dolores Umbridge was on her way to Trapperton, he was almost as concerned that perhaps she wasn't. What if he'd jumped to conclusions over just a hair bow and some pink parchment? Because if it turned out he had...If he went through all of this, flying to Scotland, disrupting Harry's safety net, getting the twins in trouble with the Order, only to find that some crotchety old miser was off to Trapperton alone for a Ministry-sanctioned holiday...

He forced himself not to think about that now. He couldn't allow himself to. He was already in this deep and had dragged the twins and Harry right along with him. Another hour and his parents would be in bed, the twins in place to intercept them and make some excuse should they be awakened by an unusual roar near the woods. Another hour and he would be on his way to Hermione. He wondered if he was supposed to feel this cold and nervous and clammy with a huge, disagreeable knot in the pit of his stomach. Didn't the heroes of the world always feel bold, daring, and oh-so-sure of themselves? Why couldn't he be like them? Surely they never had any doubts.

Ron looked up and in spite of his tension, couldn't help but smile. "You two are pretty damned good, really. Now if only it works."

"If _only?"_ the twins said in unison.

"Of _course_ it'll work," Fred said indignantly.

"Our plans almost always do," George offered.

"I keep telling you not to say _almost_, George," Fred scolded.

"Reckon we'd better get inside now," Ron said. Spotting the black leather bomber jacket he'd worn the other night where he'd tossed it aside on a table, he picked it up and laid it across the seat of the motorbike. No telling what the weather was like in Scotland or at two thousand feet aloft--he thought it would be a good thing to take along, rather than a long, draggy cloak that could get caught in the wheels. "I think the motorbike's set now and I've got a few things to put together in the house before I go. Besides, I've got to let Mum and Dad see me heading to bed. They think I've got work tomorrow."

"Ah, the end of your brilliant Ministry career. Percy would be so disappointed," Fred teased.

"Pity it had to end so soon," George added wistfully. "Whatever will Mum say?"

"Shut it," Ron said irritably, before dousing the oil lamps and steering his brothers to the shed door.

So far, it had gone stunningly well. Ron had checked over everything he needed, mostly just taking along those same things he'd thrown into his rucksack several weeks earlier (but he did think to get some fresh water). He was now walking the motorbike out to the edge of the woods, mentally revising the map in his head and the landmarks he'd set himself to watch for. Hermione's most recent letter crunched in his back pocket along with a basic map he'd drawn for himself, since he'd had to leave the map he'd, erm - _borrowed_ from Sharpe's office -- with the twins for Harry. His dark jeans and the black leather bomber jacket camouflaged him in the night for the most part and the moon was but a sliver that did little to illuminate his bright hair.

Ron had left a note of explanation for his parents in his room, telling them that he'd gone in early for work and would be off with Fred for a day or two on business (Fred had lost the final round of "rock/parchment/scissors" to George). The truth was that since he didn't always cross paths with his dad at work in the Ministry, Ron was hoping his parents wouldn't even notice him gone or look for the note until he was already in Scotland.

As he walked, Ron covered and re-covered his steps in preparing to leave. He was certain that everything about the motorbike was in order -- he'd even used Magical Ropes to lash an extra tank of petrol to the back with his rucksack because he had no idea what kind of gas mileage to allow for flying. Thinking of flying made him stop and gasp for a moment until he remembered that he'd shoved the parchment Leo had given him with the Security Reversal Spells into his front pocket instead. He patted it just to reassure himself.

Only one loose end was left to keep nagging at him--and that was Pig. With a normal day's post, Pig should have been back long before now, but Ron hadn't seen any sign of him. At first, when the little owl wasn't back after Ron had arrived home from work, Ron hadn't thought much of it; he hoped that what was possibly keeping Pig was some post Harry was sending with up-to-the-moment news regarding Umbridge or Harry's escape, or both. But when it came time for Ron to leave and Pig still wasn't back, it became a source of worry. If nothing else, Pig's arrival at the Burrow after Ron had left would likely signal to his parents that he was gone for sure. After a long journey, the annoying little twit had a habit of circling whoever was supposed to feed him until they dropped everything they were doing and did so. Ron had left some dry owl treats in Pig's bowl, but those were hardly his favorite and he'd often been spoiled by some fresh little bit of Ron's last meal that had been saved. Unfortunately, if Ron wasn't there to complete the task, Pig would probably seek out Ginny or Mrs. Weasley, both of which would be wondering why Pig wasn't going to Ron instead. _If this whole thing gets bolluxed up because of that little twirp, he's off to the pillow factory... _

Ron stopped and sighed heavily. He was at the edge of both the woods and his great undertaking. Once he left here there was no going back. This was his last chance to retreat, hope that everything he'd seen and assumed from his discoveries at the Ministry was wrong, and that Hermione would be all right on her own. Or - it was also his last opportunity to go back and explain everything to his father, hoping that the Order would see fit to investigate in Trapperton before it was too late. _Your last chance to wimp out,_ _Weasley_he told himself harshly.

But in truth, the cold, sweaty palms, the clamminess, and the self-doubt of earlier this evening were gone. This_ felt_ right. It was what he knew he had to do. The fact that he'd intentionally turned off the negatives in his mind and let his heart take charge set him free in a way that he'd felt only a few times before. If anyone had ever seen something he'd done in the past as heroic, that was why-- those were moments he hadn't had time to mull over what he was doing, to hash and rehash the pros and cons in his head. He had acted. His heart had told him what to do and he'd done it, no time to waste and no questions asked. No one ever talked about a hero's mind-- but a hero's heart? Yes--_that_ was where the source of being a hero lay. Ron was putting his heart in charge tonight--and it spoke to him loudly on Hermione's behalf.

He swung his leg over the motorbike, setting his heel on the kickstarter and pulling the key from his right front jeans pocket. He smiled a bit as he looked at the key in his hand and thought of the wizard who must have held it this way so many times long ago.

"How many times, Sirius?" Ron asked quietly. "How many times did you hold this key in your hand, ready to fire up the engine and speed off somewhere to prove your loyalty to your friends? How many times did you ignore the rubbish your mind was telling you and follow your heart to play the hero? I know for a fact you played hero at least once on Halloween fifteen years ago. And that's the reason I know you'd understand why I'm doing this. You know I want Harry to have this motorbike--and you can be sure that no matter what, it'll be his as soon as this is over. But I also know you'd never keep a friend from the chance to save another who was in trouble, no more than you'd deny that in my shoes, you'd be doing the very same thing. Thanks for the lift, Sirius, wherever you are."

With that and a deep breath, Ron shoved the key into the ignition, turned it hard, and jumped to slam his heel down on the kickstarter. The gratifying roar of the motorbike rumbling beneath him only strengthened his resolve.

It only took a minute or two for Ron to clear the top of the trees at the edge of the woods. He had planned to fly over forested and unpopulated areas as much as possible-- piloting a Ford Anglia over London to Hogwarts had managed to teach him a thing or two, after all.

He was flying slowly, at least long enough to verify his direction with both the North Star and the "Point Me!" Charm when he saw-- it. It was difficult in the murky darkness to see what it was, but in the distance there would be a momentary flash of something light-colored, then it would disappear. At first he thought he was imagining things; but then, another minute or two would pass and it would appear again, only closer.

Of course, he had realized from the outset that there would be other things besides a wizard on a motorbike flying in the summer night sky. Any number of night birds or even Muggle contraptions were in flight every night. Worse yet, he was quite aware that many wizards traveled by night on their broomsticks to avoid being spotted. He was only praying that there wasn't a wrench in the works of his plan so soon.

But as the thing got closer, his clearer perspective told him that it was small, whatever it was. Probably much too small to be a Muggle contraption like an airplane (plus it had no lights); it seemed too small to be a human as well. A sigh of relief shuddered from his lungs as he realized it was only a night bird.

Ron watched the point where the bird was still approaching. He was tempted to ignore and just try to dodge it, but the thing kept coming right at him--and he found that quite curious. Surely Dumbledore hadn't found out already and sent one of his little 'pets' to find Ron, along with a note attached that said something like, "Mr. Weasley, Not only are you expelled from Hogwarts, but the Ministry will be dealing with you once this parchment completes its magical task of plucking you from the sky."

It was close enough now that Ron could see the somewhat top-heavy shape of an owl in flight--perhaps just a messenger owl. But once he realized it was too small for most messenger owls and the bird tilted a certain way such that the very dim moonlight caught on his wings, Ron realized that he'd seen those very wings on many a moonlit night from his window.

"Pig!" Ron shouted before realizing someone below_ might_ just be able to hear him. He dampened his volume some, but tried to keep his voice intense. "Pig, it's me!"

Pig's wings ceased to flap in apparent shock as he looked up in response to a familiar voice and a very unfamiliar loud, mechanical noise. Within a moment he started to plummet straight down and the little owl began flapping furiously to regain his altitude. Looking completely perplexed by what he saw before him, Pig at first seemed to want to head straight for Ron to deliver his post. But on approach, the owl stopped his forward progress and began to circle around the motorbike, apparently put off by the motorbike engine's volume.

"Pig, it's all right," Ron encouraged, trying to get him to come closer while still keeping the motorbike aloft. "It's just loud, it won't hurt you." Making sure he could balance the bike one-handed, Ron lifted his arm away from the handlebars and held it out toward Pig to land on.

This movement seemed familiar to Pig, but Ron couldn't deny the terror in the little owl's eyes as he truly tried to calm himself enough to land, but couldn't bring himself to do it. The bird started off again on another large circuit around the motorbike.

Unable to think of anything else to do without crashing, Ron just gestured to Pig to follow behind him. He didn't want to let Pig return to the Burrow, for precisely the reasons he'd thought of earlier. But he also wasn't sure if his owl could make it to Trapperton after the long flight to and from Harry's house that day. There was also the issue of that letter from Harry...

After a mere ten or fifteen minutes, Ron looked back to see that Pig had fallen some ways behind him. He gestured to the little bird again, to encourage him to keep up. But he could tell from the tortured and frenzied flapping of the little owl, quickly followed by a complete ceasing of any movement, that the tiny bird was getting very tired. Ron also knew that if he was told to, loyal little Pig would fly until he dropped.

Wondering if he could maneuver the motorbike so quickly without heading into a downward plummet himself, Ron twisted his hand to rev the engine and accelerate, at the same time pointing the bike almost straight up. With a huge loop in the sky, Ron swept down on Pig; the owl barely had time to react, much less fly away when Ron reached out to snatch him out of the air with one hand, just like an errant Quaffle.

Holding the owl up in front of his face so the two of them were eye-to-terrified, huge-golden-eye, Ron spoke soothingly to his owl to try and calm him. Just holding him tightly and allowing him to get used to the noise seemed to help, but Ron wasn't sure what to do with him after that--unless...

Ron looked down his shirtfront to where he'd earlier zipped up the bottom of the bomber jacket. The stiffness of the leather and the zipper bowed the jacket forward a bit and made something of a pouch--just about the right size for a frightened little owl. Besides, there, the terrible din would be muffled some.

"Now this isn't going to hurt--in fact, it should be quite warm and comfy in there," Ron explained to Pig. "And this is very, very special, you know. Not many owls get to ride through the sky on another giant bird--even if it is one that's rather noisy."

Pushing Pig's little body into the 'pocket' of his jacket, Ron could feel his pet stiffen and panic at first. But the warmth or the comfort or the beating of Ron's heart finally calmed the wee owl into relaxing. Oddly enough, Pig relaxing against him made Ron sigh loudly and he himself relaxed some--not that he needed it, much.


	19. Her Knight on Shining Armor

_As always, thanks to my wonderful betas, **Christina Teresa** and **Seakays.** I also appreciate the wonderful people who not only read, but take their time to review. For their Chapter 18 reviews, thank you to **Mist**, **inlovewithron**, **Sunflowa **(who followed the story to SQ, too! MANY thanks!), and **Harry Lvr**. Hope you enjoy this one! NZ_

** Chapter 19  
Her Knight On Shining Armor**

_**Ch 18 Summary: **Ron tells Leo he won't be back to work. Leo guesses what he's about to do and gets Ron the maintenance reversal spells for the security wards at Trapperton. Fred and George tell Ron they can't get Harry out of Privet Drive until the following day. Harry Floos Ron to tell him he's overheard Umbridge isn't in St. Mungo's as she's supposed to be and that Ron needs to go that night to get Hermione out, even if he has to go alone. Harry will follow when he can. Fred and George disclose their escape plan to Ron. Ron leaves for Trapperton and finds Pig along the way._

Hermione was surprised to find she'd awakened from a deep sleep. It was such a strange phenomenon to have actually slept for a few hours for the second night running that she was suspicious it had been the quiet that had awakened her. Either way, it felt good to know that not only had she slept, but that she could go back to sleep and sneak in a few more hours' worth.

Unfortunately, her mind was also so stunned at the silence and at having got some rest that she had trouble calming it down now she was awake. True, she had heard one short Yeti call earlier in the night , but it had apparently not been enough that the handlers thought it necessary to release the dogs. _What's been different about last night and tonight in the habitat to make the Yeti quiet? _She listened carefully to see if she could hear the trainers or anyone else out and about in the camp, yet she heard nothing but the low droning of a Muggle airplane in the distance.

_Well, maybe since Dr. Null wouldn't tell me any more than he has about why the Yeti were so upset, he'll at least tell my why they haven't been for the past two nights. I'll ask him tomorrow if there's been some sort of breakthrough or something._

Hermione pulled the covers up around her neck (not that she needed them for warmth, but she just couldn't sleep any other way), then she nuzzled her face into her pillow as she habitually did, closing her eyes. The low humming of the airplane in the distance continued, perhaps a bit louder now, and she thought about how that sound was sometimes a comfort to her, just to know that someone else was awake out there, no matter how far away. Perhaps it would help her drift off to sleep...

Just as she began to feel that everything around her was getting fuzzy, she mentally noted that the airplane noise was actually getting fairly loud and close, even though it sounded much more like a small, private aircraft rather than a larger one. It did make a strange "Pop!" two or three times as it continued, but perhaps it just sounded so loud because so far the night had been a peaceful one. _Ah well...who cares...?_

Her eyes blinked open again._What was that? _She had no idea if she'd just slept a few seconds or a few hours, but something had awakened her. Something in the air was different now-- the dogs were barking madly, though from far away in their pens, she figured; the peaceful droning of the airplane was gone. She hadn't heard aYeti call, which was what usually set off the dogs, and the enormous lights hadn't yet been lit; all of this calamity must have just begun.

Something small, like a tiny stone, hit her door. No more than a minute later, so did another. Hermione sat up, listening intently. There was no wind tonight, so it couldn't have been twigs or seeds blowing against the door. Was there something there or...? Perhaps it was just a forest animal crawling around. After a few minutes of silence, she laid back down, but while settling into her pillow again, she could have sworn she heard a soft tapping.

_That's it! I refuse to lie here like a sitting duck waiting for something to burst in on me!_

As quietly as she could, in case something or someone outside her door could hear her moving around inside, Hermione slid out of bed and grabbed her wand from the bedside table. _"Lumos minimus!"_ she ordered quietly before a soft glow appeared to help her navigate the small room.

On her way to the door, she considered her next move. If she couldn't hear anything from her side of the door, she could reverse the Security Spell to open it and have a peek outside, wand ready. But that would leave her at the mercy of whatever was out there as well. _Tulip or Tod maybe? But why would they be out wandering at this time of night?_

With her ear to the door, she thought she could hear the rustling of a rather large body, something or someone bigger than herself. And there was a crunching sound, like parchment moving about... was that a very low "hmm" she heard? Perhaps one of the handlers? But why would they be bothering her now, unless they'd somehow found out what she'd overheard?

Hermione was already very sure of herself with her Full Body-Bind Spell. _If I reverse the spell and pull open the door, then immediately hit them with the Full Body Bind.. .Even if it's someone important, how could they blame me with them skulking around in the night like that?_ _It's either that, or stand here till morning, wondering...  
_  
Stepping back from the door so she could swing it open quickly, she readied herself to incant the reversal in as confident and even a voice as she could muster:_ "Invertare Incantado Bilius!" _She instantly reached to grab the doorknob, but before she could turn it, she heard a moaning complaint in a low, familiar whisper:

_"What? _Aw, Hermione, how could you? You know how much I _hate_ that name!"

With a gasp of utter shock and a tingling in her eyes, Hermione wrenched the doorknob to the right and nearly yanked the door from its hinges. Grabbing the first handful of Ron that she could reach, she seized his jacket front and pulled him, stumbling, over the threshold. The sudden movement startled Pig into flight from somewhere, then there were feathers floating in front of Ron's nose and he immediately sneezed -- twice. The tiny owl zipped around the room in circles, chittering happily once he saw who they had come to visit.

_"Bilius! Silencio!" _Hermione stated in a firm, but confused voice to re-set the Security Spells and begin a Silencing Spell as well.__

Ron blinked at her, trying to recover from his twin sneezes; but as soon as he did, he simply stood there staring at her with that devilishly wonderful grin. "Bilius? Interesting choice, Hermione."

_Oooh! Twenty seconds! He's been here twenty seconds and he's starting already! _she thought, quite embarrassed that he'd discovered what was supposed to be her secret.

She was so glad to see him, she fought the urge to criticize him-- almost succeeded, too. Almost.

"What are you _doing,_ Ron?" she demanded. "You could have been caught! They would have arrested you, you know--maybe killed you! Breaking into a Ministry compound! You-you--" But she couldn't hold back a moment longer, " -- you wonderful _idiot!"_"

Hermione threw her arms around his neck, standing on bare tiptoes to reach that high. She wanted to hug him quickly and let go--she did -- at least her mind told her so.

Ron struggled a bit and coughed, laughing and gently loosening her arms. "Wait, you're choking me! Geez, Hermione, I can't tell if you're trying to kill me or if you're glad to see me."

She pulled her arms from around his neck and moved back a bit to look in his face, tossing her still-lit wand aside on the bed. But she'd so desperately missed that playful look of happiness in those eyes that had been so cold and angry the last time she'd looked that deep. There was nothing to say right now -- nothing -- and only one thing to do. More gently, but still determined, Hermione reached inside his open jacket to circle her arms around his waist and lay her head against his chest; that way he wouldn't be able to see the hot tears splashing down her face.

Ron chuckled softly in apparent embarrassment once, but it quickly died out and after a few moments she felt his arms slip awkwardly but warmly around her back. He'd probably never know how much comfort this brought or how much she needed this moment to fill that deep well of loneliness inside of her with as much of him as he would give.

Finally, she felt him loosen his arms. "Hermione?" he said softly.

Pig hooted quietly at the sound of Ron's voice from where the owl had finally settled down on the top of the dresser. No doubt the dim light and their calm silence had helped.

_Okay, I can do this now,_ she told herself. Sniffing, she pulled her arms from around him and took a few steps back. She swiped her hand across her face to push away the teary residue and she noticed him pointedly ignoring the gesture. He never had known quite what to do when she cried -- no matter how quiet she was about it (although she was fairly certain he must be aware, but also gallantly ignoring, how soaked his shirtfront was at this moment).

"Okay, I do have a problem here," Ron began. "I had to leave Sirius's motorbike in the bushes outside-- I need to get it in here before someone finds it."

"Sirius's motorbike?" Hermione said in awe, recovering a bit of normalcy now. _"That's_ how you got here?" Of course, the droning of the airplane... "That engine sound--that was you?"

Ron winced. "Yeah--how bad was it? That motorbike's never taken a Silencing Charm, no matter how I try. I waited until there was a Muggle air-o-plane flying over before I started in, though. But it sounds like those dogs definitely caught on. Are those the ones you've told me about?"

"Yes-- though they're probably still in their kennels from the sounds of it. You onl sounded like an airplane, though --maybe a really close one," Hermione answered. "But so far the floodlights aren't on, you're probably safe. What happened to the Security wards? I mean, thank heavens they didn't go off, but --why didn't they?"

Ron flashed her a smug smile. "I have the Maintenance Test Reversal Spell for the wards. Don't worry-- they'll re-set themselves automatically after a few minutes."

He'd made those pops she'd heard...Hermione realized how stupid she must look with her mouth hanging open and snapped it shut. "How in the world did you get that? How did you learn to _do_ that?"

Ron shrugged. "I, er, well, let's just say I know someone." He looked worriedly at the door. "Can I go get it now?"

Hermione was still thinking about all he'd told her. "Oh -- oh, yes. Go on, bring it in. But be careful because Dr. Voyde's cabin is next door--and no telling what she'd do if she found you." She listened to the continued yelping and barking outside for a moment, fearful that her 'friends' would disturb the whole camp. "Oh, those dogs! Why won't they get quiet now?"

Ron just stood there, finally pointing upward. "Erm...Security Spell?"

"Oh -- right," she said, walking to retrieve her wand from the bed and holding it up.  
_"Invertare Incantado Bilius!"_

Though she could tell he was dying to say something else, all he did was smirk at her when she incanted the last word of the spell. Then he turned and headed out of the door, probably missing altogether the sneer she shot at him.

"Be careful!" she whispered loudly. "--And quiet! The dogs might have woke the handlers!" It took no more than thirty seconds of staring at the darkness through the doorframe before Ron appeared there again, pushing a gleaming machine that was so different from the one Hermione had seen weeks ago in the shed, she could hardly believe it was the same motorbike. Just as Ron was pulling the rear wheel of the motorbike over the threshold, a blazing blast of light illuminated everything behind him.

Hermione gasped. "Hurry! It's just the floodlamps, but when they're on, everyone can see_everything!" _Ooooh, those dogs get nothing from me tomorrow!" Quickly shoving the door closed behind him, she whispered to re-set the Security and the Silencing Spells.

The shock of the light hitting his eyes had only hurried him into the room, but once inside he moved carefully, apparently to avoid knocking anything over with the motorbike and attracting unwanted attention from anyone outside. He walked the motorbike over to a corner next to the desk and set the kickstand.

Hermione wandered over with her lit wand, muttering_ "Maximus!"_. Between that and the shafts of light coming in around the window blinds, she found herself gaping in awe.

"Oh, Ron," she said, transfixed. "It's--it's beautiful!"

"Runs great now, too," Ron boasted. "Not even one problem, the whole way here." He flopped himself into her desk chair.

After staring at the motorbike for several minutes, she could feel his eyes on her. It was only then that she realized all she had on was her T-shirt and her pyjama shorts. Her face hot again_ (second time in fifteen minutes_, she thought irritably), there was nothing to do but face him head on and embarrass him back, which she did. (She knew it would be easy to embarrass him, but she found it charming in a twisted sort of way. Muggle boys wouldn't give a thought to what she had on, not even someone like Harry, because they were accustomed to seeing girls in so much less, even in the ads on the tellie. Ron, on the other hand, used to long, loose robes and females being almost fully covered his whole life, couldn't take even a little extra exposed skin...) He looked away quickly, blushing so deeply she could even tell in the dim light; he picked up an old quill from her desk to distract himself.

"So--" he began, still looking at the quill, "is that what you're wearing home? Because it's a bit colder at about three thousand feet, you know."

Engrossed in her thoughts about embarrassment, she thought she'd misunderstood him. "Wearing..._home?"_

"Yeah," he said. "We don't have much time. I'm not sure we can make it back before sunrise even now, but maybe we can get part way and hide somewhere for the day. Hurry -- get your things -- just enough to get you by."

"What? Wait--" Hermione said in disbelief and confusion, shaking her head. "I'm not going _home."_

Ron's gaze snapped to her face, his embarrassment forgotten. He smiled a bit, as if she must have been joking. "Oh -- okay, to the Burrow then. Hermione, I came to get you out of here. Don't you know how dangerous it is?"

"It's not dangerous for me -- just for the Yeti," she said. "You can't imagine what they're doing to them."

"Well, we can't take them with us on the motorbike, that's for sure."

"Exactly." Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and stared. Seeing her firm stance seemed to deflate Ron's enthusiasm a bit. "There's something strange going on here besides that. I don't know what it is, but this isn't just a research compound. Voyde's men--"

Ron was frowning now and didn't seem especially interested in hearing her long, convoluted story. In fact, he seemed rather irritable. "Who?"

"Voyde's men--remember those men from King's Cross? In the station, with Bruno? They were on their way here." Hermione had been afraid to send that information to the boys in a letter, even via their shipping system that seemed like it ought to be quite secure. She wasn't sure just what the men's connections were in the world outside Trapperton, but she knew how evil they felt while they were here within. She assumed that if someone intercepted a letter pointing that out, they might not be pleased about it...

"Those men are _here?"_ Ron asked blankly.

"They're the trainers for the Yeti," Hermione explained. "They're doing things to deprive them, but I just don't know how far they'll take it--or why they're doing it - yet. Oh, I have so much to tell you."

"Well, you can tell me on the way back--"

Hermione couldn't believe he'd made that assumption. "Ron, you can't come storming in here expecting me to just drop everything and go."

"Didn't you read my last letter?" Ron said, incredulous. "I came to get you out of here--don't you have any idea who's coming?"

Hermione could feel her jaw setting. "Phelix Nardstone-- yes, I know.

Ron stood and moved closer to look down at her, though as long as she'd known him he'd never managed to intimidate her with his height. "I know that's what everyone says officially, but when we were told to ship his stuff, it belonged to someone else. It wasn't his."

Smirking just a bit, Hermione shifted on her feet and looked up into his face. "And you know this-- how?"

"Unless there's something Phelix Nardstone isn't letting on, I pulled a black hair bow from his satchel."

"A hair bow?" she scoffed. "Well, maybe it's his wife's, or his daughter's."

Ron acted a bit like he was talking to a child, or to someone hard of hearing. "Hermione -- he's a two-hundred-year-old miser--he has no wife or daughter. He has no hair either, come to that."

"Then a female friend," she said stubbornly.

Ron sighed in apparent exasperation. "I repeat, he's a _two-hundred-year-old _miser. Besides, I found a memo in Nardstone's office saying that someone would be coming here to take care of an urgent problem."

"Yes, but they always talk like that about the projects. And no one's coming for two days. That will give us some time to find out what's going on and get information to take back to the Ministry...or Dumbledore..."

He didn't appear to be registering what she was saying at all. "But it wasn't Nardstone's stationery unless he likes that pink, too. Don't you remember? Hair bows, pink parchment stationery? Umbridge, Hermione. Umbridge is coming here. _Here. _Who knows why? And who cares? But you are _not_ her favorite person, remember? We need to get you out of here."

"Ron, how do you _know_ she's coming?" Hermione said tersely. "Did you read it somewhere? Hear it from the Order? How can you be so sure?"

"Well, I can't, really," Ron said irritably. "And I _don't_ know for sure. But there are so many bits of information that lead that way--it's got to be -- I can feel it. And Harry--he overheard Tonks and Moody talking about Umbridge. They don't think she's in St. Mungo's like the papers have been saying she is -- Kingsley Shacklebolt was sure he saw her at the Ministry last week."

"Yes, but even if he's right --that _doesn't_ mean she's on her way here."

Ron acted as if he wanted to tell her something else, but was having a difficult time getting it out-- finally he seemed to purposely throw it off. He looked down to search her face and eyes for several moments before asking a question he seemed to already have the answer to. "You're not coming back with me tonight, are you?"

Hermione looked up at him almost apologetically through her eyelashes. It wasn't that she didn't want to, but... "I...can't, Ron. I can't just leave them here at the mercy of those men--not without trying to help. I might be their only chance--maybe I really _am _supposed to be here--for that, for them. Please try to understand."

Ron's threw his hands in the air and turned away, shaking his head. "Shoulda known. With you, I shoulda known."

She could hear the disappointment in his voice. "If you need to go, I'm sure I'll be all right. I wouldn't blame you if you left."

"I flew all this way, thinking..." Ron paused a moment, looking up and blinking at the ceiling. "Oh, I don't know what I was thinking." He looked back down into her face, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "But you know what? I came to make sure you were safe. If I leave, I might as well have never come. Reckon I'll just _stay_ and make sure you're safe that way."

"Really?" she asked, almost afraid to hope.

"Yeah, what the hell," Ron said. "But not forever. I'll give you until midnight tonight--well, after the day's over, as it stands now."

Hermione struggled not to reflexively snap at him for his language -- he didn't need that right now. She knew she might need longer than midnight -- but his heart was in the right place, as always, and she could work on stretching the time element with him later.

"All right, so you have all day to see what you can do about this scientist and see what more you can find out," Ron reasoned. "That'll still get us out out of here before whoever comes, _comes,_ and we can still get out in the dark if we have to. We just have to let Harry know when we leave if he's not here by then. But we have Pig--"

Hermione's eyes widened. "Harry's coming?"

"He's trying," Ron said, seeming to be losing steam, "but we're not sure how far he'll make it before the Order catches up with him. He was worried about you, too, you know, once I told him everything. Plus we didn't know what we'd run into once we came to get you out. It was just that he couldn't--"

The realization of what all that meant was hitting her. "You let Harry leave that house? Don't you know what could happen to him? Far worse things than could happen here!"

Hermione was just working herself up to a good rage when Ron slumped onto the end of the bed behind him.

"Stop, Hermione-- please?" he asked weakly. "If you won't leave tonight, then can you wait until tomorrow to yell at me? I'm sure you'll still remember how really hacked off you are, and well--I'm just really tired...it's been kind of a long day...two days, really. Do you have a bit of floor I can use?"

The fact that Ron had even considered letting Harry leave Privet Drive was enough to set her off screaming for hours. But he looked so defeated and exhausted sitting there, his eyes drooping, that all of a sudden she didn't have the heart.

"Where's Harry now?" she forced herself to ask calmly.

"With his aunt and uncle still," Ron answered dully. "Where can I --" he yawned and swung a forefinger at the floor, "--be out of your way?"

She looked around the small room, trying to mentally change gears. "I don't know. Just-- wait there a minute. I'll get a pillow and some blankets."

"No, that's--" Ron yawned again, trying to shake it out of himself to talk to her, "-- that's okay."

"Honestly, Ron," she fussed. "Obviously, you need some decent sleep. Just sit there." Padding through the short bathroom hallway toward the back closet where Tod had shown her the extra bedding was kept, she pulled out a pillow and several blankets. She carried them out into the main room, only to see that, as usual, Ron hadn't done as he was told. He was no longer sitting.

Ron had slid to the floor at the end of the bed and was fast asleep, crumpled into a heap in a half-upright position. Aside from the fact that he was going to have a terrible kink in his neck once he woke, she was also going to have trouble walking over his long legs to get around in the room herself.

Hermione laid a blanket out on the floor and dropped the pillow at one end. Reaching over to his arm, she tugged until he was lying flat, then half-pushed, half-rolled him onto the blanket. Without opening his eyes, Ron seized the pillow the instant his face touched it, waking only enough to shove the thing into a wad, roll onto his stomach, and mumble, "just five more minutes, Mum..."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione considered trying to get his leather jacket off, since it looked like it'd be very stiff, hot, and uncomfortable to sleep in; she'd never seen him wear it before, yet it did look familiar somehow... But she didn't want to wake him to do it, so she only slipped off his shoes, threw them under her desk, and tossed the other blanket haphazardly over him. If he was uncomfortable, it certainly didn't seem to be affecting his sleep at all.

She stepped carefully over Ron's feet, climbed into bed and pushed around in the blankets until she found her wand to whisper, "Nox!" Lying there awake, her eyes became accustomed to the darkness after a few minutes. Hermione could see the bulky, dark outline of the motorbike filling a corner of her room and half of the long, low outline of her best friend stretched out on the floor beyond the end of her bed.

Things had turned out so strangely and so differently at Trapperton than she had first imagined that she wondered if Ron could be right. He had little evidence to go on, from what he'd told her so far. Did he know more? Or could he be that certain from just the few clues that he'd talked with her about? Was he blowing things out of proportion, or was there something she was missing? Maybe that third flat _wasn't_ for more house-elves...

She tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable enough to fall asleep. The sheets felt hot and sticky against her skin and she kicked her legs to throw them off. Still too hot. Nights like this made her crazy, knowing that she had so much to do the next day and certain that she'd be exhausted if she didn't force herself to sleep. Yet the harder she tried, the farther she felt from it.

Hermione sat up in exasperation, unable to stand lying there any longer. Her mind would not keep still. With the vague hope that doing so might unwind her, she went over all of the clues she'd managed to find out about the Yeti and what the handlers were doing to them, all of the things she'd seen and overheard. But she kept coming back to the same question: Why? Why would someone like Dr. Voyde, who had supposedly devoted her life to the welfare of magical creatures, suddenly allow others to antagonize and mistreat them? Could impressing Carl Smeggers be that important to her? How could Dr. Null be so blind? Was he _that_ afraid for his reputation? Even though she still thought the idea was pretty far-fetched, what would Dolores Umbridge want with Trapperton?

_I could kill Ron for dragging Harry into this,_ Hermione thought, but she knew how close the two of them were. In all honesty, she might have been more surprised if he'd told her Harry knew nothing about it.

She heard Ron shifting around on the floor and tried to peer over the end of the bed to see him. It felt strange to have him sleeping in the same room with her and hear his deep, even breathing (not to mention an occasional little coo from the also-sleeping Pig on the bureau); yet it was wonderful to have some relief fom the horrible loneliness that had been her constant companion for so many days.

Bored and tired of trying to figure out difficult answers when everything was so confusing, Hermione threw herself on her stomach at the foot of the bed to watch Ron sleep. She wished she felt as peaceful as he looked there in the near-darkness, though she could guess that once he was awake, his peace would be just as non-existent as hers.

Whether he was right or not, the fact was that he had come to save her from whatever evils he believed to be out there. Somehow the image of first-year Ron as the knight on McGonagall's giant chessboard flashed into her mind and she smiled to herself. She remembered how horrified, yet awed she'd been then at the idea that a twelve-year-old boy would be willing to sacrifice himself for the good of his friends and the wizarding world, if necessary. It had always amazed her how accepting Ron was of putting himself in harm's way to keep those he loved as far from it as possible. How lucky she was to be one of those he...well...cared about.

Her mind wandered off into the thought that perhaps it was cooler on the floor. In fact, it probably was, she convinced herself. Ron looked perfectly comfortable down there, even in that thick, heavy jacket. _Oh, Hermione, stop lying to yourself..._

The fact was, she didn't _want_ to sleep in the bed--not when she had missed her friends so much, not when Ron had just got here, not when he had come to save her from some terrible fate, whether that fate was in the cards or not. ...Not when he was warm and funny and brave and so very _Ron_ and all she had to do was reach down and touch him...And suddenly she couldn't help herself.

Her face burning in embarrassment, even though there was no one to see and no real reason to be embarrassed, Hermione shakily climbed to her knees on the bed to look down and make sure. On the far side of Ron, there wasn't much space, but it was more than enough. She pulled off her sheet, grabbed her pillow, then silently crawled out and tiptoed around the end of the bed. Carefully, she stepped over him and edged herself into the space, because how in the world would she explain what she was doing if Ron woke up? Come to that, how would she explain it in the morning anyway? She would wake up first, that's all. She had to be in the lab by nine, anyway.

Settling herself into the space near him, she noted that it definitely was cooler there. Ron had rolled onto his side and his front jacket flap was lying open on the floor between them. After watching him sleep a few minutes to make certain she hadn't awakened him at all, she allowed her fingers to creep out toward his jacket and touch the soft fuzziness of its flannel lining. Pulling a handful of the flannel into her palm, she found that it somehow made her feel so safe--and comfortable--just like Ron could make her feel sometimes.

Her eyelids began to feel heavy and she sighed as she nuzzled her face into her pillow, feeling the sheet around her neck. Her inadvertent sigh told her that handful of lining was all she needed to sleep now -- to know Ron was really there, that he wasn't some dream she'd wake up from and realize that she was back to being truly alone at Trapperton with her fears and her worries. The fact that she could feel his warm, even breaths ever so softly tickling her cheek from several feet away was a complete bonus--though she had to work hard to ignore the tingles they caused. Finally, she felt as much at peace as he looked -- at least for now.

_Lying on the hard ,hot stone surface in the sweltering Egyptian summer heat, Ron looked down from his niche on the side of the Great Pyramid onto the desert floor below. From here, he could see the ward markers that would go off between himself and the flat sands of the Sahara on his way down, alerting all of those evil men who rode giant, snarling and salivating dogs and held enormous floating brains by their thought ribbons, ready to unfurl and fly toward him at a moment's notice. Just the thought was making him sweat, and they must have already hit him with some evil curse that made him feel restricted and confined, unable to move and free himself. They must have been starving him too, purposely, because his stomach rumbled hard, loud, and long enough to bring him closer to consciousness..._

"Argh," he moaned, pulling his head from the pillow, confused. It had been a long time since he'd thrown himself out of bed as he used to when, as a child, he dreamt of doing a Wronski Feint while playing Quidditch for the Cannons. But here he was, on the floor. Or -- had he jumped from the side of the Pyramid after all?

Squinting, he looked around, and as his eyes began to focus better, he realized he wasn't at home in the Burrow; it all began to come back. His arm still asleep across a second pillow a foot or two away, Ron slowly and painfully lifted it and sat up, finding that the restrictive spell and the heat in his dream were both a result of the fact that he had apparently slept in his leather jacket. He quickly wrenched his arms from the sleeves and pulled it off, throwing it forcefully to the side.

_Hermione, _he thought. "Hermione?" he tested quietly, hoping she was nearby. No response. Pulling himself up far enough to peer over the edge of her bed, he found it empty save for a balled-up sheet lying on top. He didn't remember much about earlier in the dark this morning after begging her to yell at him later, but she must have been the one to get him set up here, unless she always stayed prepared for overnight guests with bedding on the floor. The last thing he really remembered was sitting on the end of her bed, waiting for her to come back with something...

Next thing he knew, he woke up down here with blankets and pillows. Wait -- blankets and _pillows? _Looking at his pillow and the one nearby, then back at the empty space on the bed, he was perplexed. _She must have sacrificed her pillow for me since I was on the floor, _he thought. _She didn't have to do that. And I already had one..._He looked back and forth between the pillow and the space on the bed again..._odd, that. _Suddenly it felt as if there was a big blank space in his mind again, just like there had been after the night of the Department of Mysteries break-in--he felt as if he'd missed something really important--and this time he hadn't even been hit with a spell. Oh, well -- pillows were hardly the most pressing problem of the day.

Speaking of that, it had to be almost -- he swung his head around to find her bedside table --_ ten o'clock! No wonder I felt like I missed somethng -- I did! Almost half the day gone and no doubt -- missed breakfast! _Ron stood and stretched, his stomach rumbling. As he lowered his arms, he felt a soft weight on his shoulder and something nibbling gently at his cheek.

"I know, Pig. I'm starving too," Ron said, wondering just how he was going to eat when he was effectively under house arrest until he spoke to Hermione about how or if he should go outside. "Wonder where she is in this place?" Ron reached for the map that he'd shoved into his back pocket on his way to get the motorbike last night. Unfolding it, he and Pig stared down at the diagram of the camp and beyond. "Whaddya thInk? The habitat? Commons? Lab building?"

"Shhraww," said Pig.

"Yeah, me too --- the lab building, I'd wager," Ron agreed. "But I'm sure there are lots of people there, too. Well -- nothing to do but wait. I drove, so I'm showering first -- you'll have to go second," he teased.

Pig blinked up at Ron, nibbled his cheek again, and flew to the top of the bureau.

Revived and refreshed from his shower, but still hungry, Ron wandered into the main room of the cabin to find Pig sitting atop the curtain rod of one of the few windows that had more than just a blind for cover. The little window on the habitat side of the entrance door was making an odd noise -- or something outside was making an odd noise against it. Pig was obviously trying to let Ron know, but was sitting and cocking his head from side to side curiously as if he wondered what it could be himself.

"Scourgify!" - ing his T-shirt before throwing it on quickly over his jeans, Ron grabbed his wand where he'd left it on the bureau and did his best to walk silently across the room. A faint rustling and a continual "dink--dinnk--dink" went on for a minute or two while Ron listened. He pulled the bottom of the blind away from the wall a few inches to see around the side of it and saw a paper airplane jamming itself nose-first into the glass over and over. Tugging the blind out a bit farther, Ron reversed the Security Spell and quickly unlatched the window, shoving it open far enough for the paper airplane to fly in.

Ron could see that the wing of the 'plane' said Shipping Message, but it was in Hermione's handwriting. He unfolded the parchment, only to discover that the message was coded in runes, just like the names he'd learned to decode in Shipping at the Ministry.

"You're so damned brilliant, Hermione," Ron muttered, smiling and realizing there weren't likely many people in camp who could knew the spell to decode the note in case it was intercepted. He incanted the spell at once and read softly to Pig:

"Dear Ron,  
I had take to care of post and be at work in the lab by nine, all while you were having a lovely lie-in. I suppose some of us have to work around here. I've had Tod (the house-elf, remember?) leave what I explained to be 'leftovers' from breakfast for 'me' to eat later. They should be suspended on the porch. It isn't much, but it's the best I could do. Stay there -- I'll get there as soon as I can without arousing suspicions.

Love,  
Hermione"

Ron felt his ears go hot at the final two words, but the butterflies in his stomach were losing out to the vicious growls, so it was the latter that forced him to the door. Cautiously and quickly, he opened and closed it to retrieve the bag, which he found full of wonderful things to eat. If this 'wasn't much' in Hermione's opinion, he wondered if a house-elf could carry something that was 'enough'.

After a full night's sleep, a shower, and an ample breakfast, Ron could see how someone could be lulled into believing that nothing was wrong here. Not that he'd looked or been outside at all, but just the quiet peacefulness of the camp alone was definitely a change from the Burrow, the Ministry, or Hogwarts -- all of those noisy places that his life was usually lived out. He leaned back in the desk chair to stretch his full stomach and smile at Pig, who after stuffing himself with what Ron shared, was contentedly preening himself on the desktop.

He hadn't exactly expected to be waking up on Hermione's floor this morning. This hero business was much more uncertain and difficult than he thought. _Or maybe it's just this particular damsel-in-distress that's the problem..._ Of course, he hadn't really expected Hermione to be imprisoned in some tower, held prisoner at swordpoint by ogres and dragons. But he'd thought she might be just a little relieved that he'd shown up to spirit her away and move her out of danger. Wasn't that the way it was supposed to be?

_But you, Weasley, of all the damsels in the world, have to go and try to to save Hermione. Hermione, who when you have something urgent and important to tell her, says "Wait, I'm almost done with this paragraph" or "Wait, just let me finish this sentence". Hermione, who has more important things to do or say than just to drop everything and walk away or listen to you. Hermione, who insists she can handle all kinds of danger by herself. Yeah, you should have known it would be "Wait, I'm not in danger, but they are. Let me figure out this mystery I'm working on to help them long enough for someone to come to hurt me.Then we'll worry. Oh, yes, and by the way, thank you for stopping by." Yeah, Hermione would be the problem._

Somehow Hermione didn't seem like she was worried about being in danger, she was more concerned about these Yeti she was working with than she was about herself. He really had trouble figuring out how someone could be so self-sacrificing about other creatures -- people, maybe he could understand -- but creatures? He secretly hoped that her crusading was founded on more than it had been so far for S.P.E.W. -- that these beings really did need her help to protect themselves, and more importantly, that they_ wanted_ the help.

But he'd show her. He _would _wait -- just in case, because he was _sure_ he was right. She'd find out and then be grateful and pleased he had known and cared enough to come save her. And he'd do the same ten times over if only he could be her hero for once...

All this thinking led him to realize it was getting hot and stuffy in here. Ron considered opening the window to get some fresh air and a look outside. Certainly he'd heard no one all morning nearby and only a few bangs and voices in the distance. Probably everyone was at their work places by now-- and according to the map, the buildings around this one were only sleeping quarters. Leaning forward over the desk, Ron pulled the blind down a bit to release it upward, but just as he did, he caught sight of movement not far outside.

Quickly pulling the blind back down except for a small opening of a few centimeters, Ron crawled around the side of the desk onto the floor so that he could see out through the space without being seen himself. A mousy-looking woman in white lab robes was standing in front of the cabin next door to Hermione's, kicking the toe of her shoe into the dirt and looking expectantly toward the middle of the camp where he'd first landed last night. She didn't seem to have any idea that anyone was watching her, so Ron reckoned that, luckily, she hadn't seen him lift the shade. He assumed, from what Hermione had told him about Dr. Voyde's cabin being next door, that the woman must be her. But what was she doing?

It became clear when a huge, lumbering man came into view: she'd been waiting for him. The man's gait was familiar, even without the long trench coat and the hat -- that was definitely the man with the dog from King's Cross, and once more-- he didn't appear happy.

As the man approached, Dr. Voyde hurried up to him, smiling and reaching her arms around his neck. But without so much as raising his eyes, the man reached up and shoved the woman's arms away, continuing to walk farther back between Voyde's cabin and Hermione's. Near the rear of the cabins, where it would have been almost impossible for anyone from the camp center to see them, he stopped and turned to her. 

_What is all this about? _Ron thought. He'd almost turned away when he saw Voyde's first move toward the man, thinking that this was just a little lover's getaway out of sight from the other camp workers. But once he saw the man's reaction..._  
_  
Voyde's face had fallen when the man rejected her embrace, and she'd been following him with mincing little steps until he stopped. Now she crossed her arms in front of herself as she faced him, looking vaguely as if she might cry.

"That little girl in there?" the man growled, shoving a thumb in the direction of Hermione's cabin.

"No," Voyde replied nervously, as if she was expecting him to explode, "I just saw her in the lab not five minutes ago. Why?"

"That one, she's always into things where she's not wanted, that's why," the man said. "We need nothing wrong now -- but maybe you're not so worried about that, eh?"

"What?" Voyde asked. "What are you talking about?

"Last night, you-- _you_ trying to throw off the pattern for those animals," Carl accused. "What did you do? Tell the men to go back to the want and the pain? You told them too early! It is not yet time!"

"Carl - I have no idea what you're talking about!" Voyde whined. 'What do you mean -- throw off the pattern?"

"Sure, you _say_ you know nothing!" Carl sneered. "It was supposed to be a reward last night -- a quiet night. The Yeti animals, they earned it -- that black monster earned it for them all again by killing the horse - he is learning, that one. But it was only the second night -- the reward is for three this time, then we start in again."

"I know," the woman said. "I know it's for three nights. What makes you think I --"

"The dogs, woman!" Carl said fiercely, then toned his voice down. "Didn't you hear the dogs? You think Carl's too stupid to hear the dogs?"

"Well, yes-- I mean, no, you're not stupid, darling. I heard them, but -- I haven't any idea why they were barking --"

"Really!" Carl said. "So the Ministry wards you and your Dr. Doolittle can do-- that you're the _only_ ones who know the magic for -- you didn't hear popping like firecrackers?"

Voyde looked completely baffled. "The wards? They were popping?"

Ron cringed. He knew exactly when and why the wards were popping.

"Like independence day!" Carl snapped. "And surely you knew -- because I saw Null outside his cabin in undershorts looking at the sky as curious as me after it happened."

"When was this?" Dr. Voyde asked, still seeming confused.

"Two in the morning -- just after. Did you not see the lights go on?"

"Well, of course -- but I didn't know why," Voyde explained. "And I must have slept through the wards being broken. Are they still down? Are we operating without them?"

"No - they're working now," Carl said. "Which means someone who knew put them back. Again, you or Null - two choices only. And only one choice makes sense if you saw the stupid, confused look on his face. It was you."

"But why do you think I'd do anything with the wards? What purpose would it serve?" Dr. Voyde asked.

Carl smirked at her. "Ha. You think I don't know. You brought another horse in from the back range -- so they can hear it and kill it. But it's too soon! There's been no 'want time' -- those animals, they need to _know_ the want and feel the pain before they get a chance to kill. You push too fast, they do not understand, they do not learn."

"I know -- I know how the positive and negative reinforcement works," Voyde insisted, starting to sound a little huffy herself. "But I didn't turn off the wards, I didn't bait another horse! Go see for yourself -- if you can find one in the habitat, then I'll take some of the blame. But I only say that because I _know_ you won't find one."

"Yeah, sure," Carl said. "Good idea -- I go look. Maybe I see where your heart really lies. Maybe not with Carl. Maybe you think _you_ have a better idea." The man turned and stomped away, back between the cabins and out toward the center of the camp.

"Carl!" she called after him, but he kept walking. Dr. Voyde first looked as if she wanted to follow him and not let him leave angry, but then she caught herself and turned away. Muttering, she appeared to be forcing herself to stay back and wait for him to get out of sight, maybe so that others wouldn't see the two of them emerging together from some unseen area. After sputtering a few minutes more, she gritted her teeth, picked up a palm-sized stone, and promptly pitched it at the back corner of her cabin.

"Men!" she hissed and stomped away toward the center of the camp herself.


	20. Four O'Clock or Thereabouts

_**A/N: **Hey everyone! Betcha wondered if I'd given up on this, eh? It was considered, to be truthful, but I hate authors who give up in the middle of a story I'm reading, so I'd hardly want to be one of those for you. Hence, on we go. Hopefully, you're enjoying the story and will continue on with us. I've finally wrestled this horrendously ill-mannered plot into complete submission (with thanks to JKR for help from HBP) and--well-- you'll just have to read on to see what evil the ingenious evildoers of the world can come up with! I'll try to make it worth your while. :)_

_Btw, any time you see a >>>, that means a scene break. I don't know if it's me or the ffn system, but it's the most they'll let me leave to indicate we're now in a different place or time. _

So -- enough babble escept to say that I owe a million thanks once again to **Christina Teresa** and **Seakays**, my wonderful betas and advisors extraordinaire.

Happy reading! NZ

**Chapter 20  
Four O'Clock or Thereabouts**

_Chapter 19 Summary:  
Hermione suspects someone or something is skulking around outside her cabin in the night, only to hear Ron's familiar whisper outside. She drags him in, thrilled to see him, yet upset that he's taken such a risk. Ron makes it clear that he's come to take her away from danger, but she'll have none of it and explains why she must stay to help the Yeti. Ron agrees to give her until midnight that night to find some answers to take to the Ministry. Exhausted, Ron falls asleep on the floor and Hermione, unable to stay far from him after being so lonely, joins him nearby to sleep. Ron awakens to find Hermione gone to the lab, but oddly, a second pillow on the floor. Breakfast for Ron and Pig is sent via Tod to be left on the doorstep, after which Ron overhears a very odd and heated conversation outside between Carl Smeggers, the man with the dog from King's Cross, and Dr. Voyde._

"I've got you," Harry said, hanging from his bedroom window. Clenched in his left fist was the leg of a graying old owl that was dangling upside-down. "Poor Errol. That had to hurt, but you're all right now. We'll just ease you on in here, old boy."

Harry pulled the owl into his room, turning him aright to look him in the eyes and noting that his rather dazed expression was even more pronounced than usual. What was truly sad was that the old bird had almost managed to complete the trip, too; all he'd done was misjudge the windowsill and hit the brick wall full force instead of the window opening. Harry laid him gently on the bed to untie the small package from his leg, then picked him up to set him upright in Hedwig's cage.

Hedwig looked up from being tucked under her wing for a nap, and Harry would have sworn she snorted at the sight of the ancient bird.

"Now, now, Hedwig. You'll want the other owls to treat you nicely when you're an old lady." Harry took in her disdainful glare at him before she tucked her head back under her wing. "Don't mind her, Errol. You just rest up."

Harry crossed the room back to the package on the bed. Ripping off the brown wrapper, he heard ticking, but paid it no attention while he looked inside a small box holding a small amount of silvery orange powder. The ticking continued, so he scrabbled around in the brown paper until he found that a parchment had been secured inside it. It was the parchment that was ticking, even when he unfolded to read what must have been a hastily scribbled note:

_Agent 00HP, _

Your mission, whether or not you should decide to accept it, is to field test our WWW Triple-Action Floo powder. Your bit of espionage is to arrange to be at the residence of one A. Figg and enter the hearth at precisely o-sixteen ten hours. M. Fletcher will be otherwise detained. Ordinary Floo powder allows you one destination only, but this magical wonder will help you proceed accordingly at your two-second-interval command to: 1) the Ministry floos, to 2) the Burrow to, 3)WWW headquarters. Eat the Canary Cream immediately after stating destinations so that, should you slow at any midpoint, you wil be unrecognizable as anything other than a very large, yellow bird. We will be in contact with you in short order at your final destination. Stand back-- this message will self-destruct in three minutes (in case you're a slow reader--who knows?).

Be slick and stay cool,

Agents 00F and 00G (couldn't use numbers because neither of us would take less than 001and 007 was taken by some fancy-pants Muggle bloke --sorry)

The parchment started to sizzle and Harry threw it onto his desktop, laughing louder than he probably should have under the circumstances. Beginning to spin in place, the note threw off narrow spirals of parchment that swiftly disintegrated into smoke. In less than a minute, the only evidence of the delivery was the wrapper, the small box of Floo powder, and the no-longer-visible instructions that Harry had quickly etched into his memory.

Though he always hated to do it, confusing Mrs. Figg was never very difficult. He'd left her in her kitchen just minutes before, looking completely baffled, after telling her in quick succession that he was hungry and would like some biscuits and milk, please, if she had them; then that he just remembered he had to go back and check the lawn sprinkler at the Dursleys because it had been acting up; suddenly he wasn't feeling very well; and oh yes, that the tortoise-shell cat and the little gray one were at it again, fighting in the back yard, and that he'd check on them in hopes that they wouldn't seriously hurt one another.

Harry knew that this overload of information and proposed activity would take sweet, but slightly daft Mrs. Figg a while to sort out and that by the time she did, she wouldn't be certain just _where_ Harry was supposed to be or what she was supposed to be doing about it. She would also be dreadfully embarrassed that she'd lost him by then and would go in search of Dung Fletcher, who she would have assumed was doing as he should have been: acting as her backup outside on Privet Drive. Fletcher, Harry knew from Dung's mutterings to himself, was already en route to a 'very quick' clandestine meeting -- not to mention Harry knew just who was responsible for the Order member's absence.

But Harry was also quite aware that wasn't his problem. He stood at the entrance to Mrs. Figgs' hearth, his eye trained on the mantel clock while the four-o'clock cuckoo hung around outside his hole to suspiciously eye Harry right back.

"Four o-eight," Harry whispered to himself rather nervously, his eyes jerking toward the nearly closed room door just before he removed the tiny box from his pocket. "Fred and George, you two had better have this all worked out."

He'd already released Errol to return to the Burrow and given Hedwig instructions to head for the Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes shop for the next few days. A 'body' fashioned of outgrown clothes from Dudley's closet inhabited his bed under the covers. Harry had blessed the miracle of Muggle ingenuity when they invented electric tape recorders as he blithely 'borrowed' Dudley's old and discarded one from his cousin's closet shelf. Some ten minutes of gagging-sound rehearsal and taping later, he had looped the tape such that it would re-play at half-hour intervals and had smiled to himself at how certain he was the Dursleys would leave him to his own for days if they believed he was that ill. Just for good measure right before he snuck out to Mrs. Figg's down the back trellis from his window, he'd staged a wonderful performance downstairs in front of his aunt and uncle by pretending to wretch, slapping a hand over his mout! h, and running upstairs. All was set and hopefully, he'd be back before anyone from the magical world was the wiser as to his whereabouts. But oh, would it feel good to get out from under this constrictive security blanket for a few days, no matter what kind of situation Ron could manage to drag him into in Scotland.

Minutes had slipped away before Harry's mind returned to the task at hand. "Four eleven! Bugger!" he said, stepping quickly into the fireplace, scooping up a handful of the silvery-orange powder, and throwing it to the floor. "The Ministry of Magic! _(One one-thousand, two one-thousand...)_ The Burrow! _(Three one-thousand, four one-thousand...)_ Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, Diagon Alley!"

Harry hoped that the whispered two-second intervals timed his destinations well enough because he hardly wanted to stop and explain himself anywhere. He nearly forgot to remove his glasses and slip them into his pocket. Popping the Canary Cream into his mouth, and slipping his glasses into his pocket at the last moment, he felt the spinning of Floo travel begin immediately and in a blur of yellow feathers, he was off.

As he spun, Harry briefly wondered if Fred and George had actually field-tested this particular combination of products themselves, because the spinning and the Canary Cream were, together, making him decidedly queasy (_no doubt cosmic payback for making the Dursleys think I was ill,_ he thought) . His motion slowed momentarily, long enough for him to focus on a Ministry Floo worker who also must have just had time to focus on him. After hearing a gasp, seeing her hand go to her mouth, and her face go white, Harry gratefully felt the spinning begin in earnest again.

A few minutes later, just as Harry was wondering if upchucking the Canary Cream in mid-Floo would undo its effects, he slowed again, this time even more than at the Ministry. He panicked momentarily to see that he was looking out into the Weasley's living room and that someone was seated on the divan, reading. It was Ginny, who looked up and did a double-take at the enormous yellow bird she saw Floo-ing into her home (though no doubt she was quite familiar with the effects of Canary Creams). She tossed her magazine aside and stood, taking a step in the direction of the hearth. Just to be sure, and against everything his stomach was telling him, Harry bit down hard on the remnants of the Canary Cream in his mouth and tried to concentrate on Diagon Alley. Thankfully, the spinning began anew before Ginny made it to the fireplace.

Finally, after what felt like an hour, Harry felt himself hurtling through the hearth opening in the back room of Fred and George's premises. Stumbling across the floor toward anything that looked like a loo, he left a wide trail of large yellow feathers and quickly eliminated the problem of the Canary Cream from his stomach. After splashing his face with cold water, he put on his glasses and emerged from the loo into what he thought to be an empty room, since Fred and George had obviously not yet arrived. But the eerie feeling of eyes upon him made the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

"Harry Potter there, right?" said a low, gravelly, voice from somewhere. Harry scanned the room and could see nothing. "_The_ Harry Potter?"

_No sense in denying that now,_ Harry thought, looking down and realizing that any remnants of canary-ism were now gone from him and lying about the floor. "Yeah," he said warily to the air, still searching. "Who wants to know?"

"Had to make sure," the voice said. "Potter's on the list. Big yellow birds that might eat small flying creatures? No."

It sounded as if the voice was coming from somewhere above him, so Harry checked the room's upper corners until his eyes fell above the interior door. There, suspended in mid-air by his rapidly-flapping, stubby little wings, was a creature like Harry had never seen before. He appeared to be hiding behind a birdhouse of some sort, apparently a bit wary of coming out himself until he was sure who or what he was dealing with. But yes, that was one thing Harry was quite sure about -- he was definitely a _he, _and unlike anything Harry had ever seen. Was he -- a _fairy?_ It was quite hard to believe that such a deep, resounding voice could come from such a tiny throat.

The creature gave a quick smile, at least what his mouth could manage around a half-smoked fag that was large enough for him to treat as a cigar. He then swooped down in what looked to Harry to be more of a plummet than a graceful flight and landed his pudgy, bare, but hairy legs on a supply shelf at about Harry's eye level. Now that he could see him better, Harry realized the creature was really a bit too big to be a fairy, plus he did seem to have some apparent intelligence and the ability to talk.

"Howard," the creature said, offering a tiny, plump hand and obviously trying to be pleasant, but blowing wisps of smoke in Harry's face as he talked. "Howard Plunck -- pleased to make your acquaintance. I'm the new bloke."

"Harry Potter," Harry said, taking the proffered hand between his thumb and forefinger to shake it. He was, though, distracted by how much the creature's two-decimeter-plus body looked like it belonged to an overly-chubby and aging baby, while his head looked like that of a slightly balding and swarthy fifty-year-old man. "But then, I suppose we've already discussed that."

Two resounding pops behind Harry interrupted the formal introductions.

"Harry!" George said. "You made it! Any problems?"

Harry turned a wan smile toward them. "No problems getting away or ending up here. The trip itself? That was something of another story."

Fred looked at Harry tentatively. "Motion sickness?"

"Yeah," Harry said, "you might say that."

"Sorry 'bout that, mate," George said. "Haven't quite got that bug worked out yet. I see you've met Howard."

Harry and Howard both nodded.

"Howard's something of our partner in crime here now," Fred said.

Howard beamed proudly around his fat stogie at that announcement.

"Helping to cover us for your great escape is only the first episode of his illustrious career with us, I reckon," George said.

"So where have you two been?" Harry asked.

"Espionage is a tricky, tricky business, my boy," Fred said sagely. "We were just out making certain your tracks were covered-- or, if nothing else, that they were a bit muddied for a while."

"What do you mean?" Harry looked a bit wary of their answer.

"The Ministry can trace Floo travel if they get the right authorizations to do it, right?" George asked.

Harry simply shrugged.

"Well, they can," Fred said. "_But_ -- since Apparation requires a _license, _and there are far more legitimate legal offenses committed involving Apparation than Floo travel, any Apparation hides Floo travel made from and to the same location at the same time, at least until the Apparation is officially examined and deemed legal."

"Really?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," George said. "More people Apparate, you know. Apparation's much less, erm, _jarring_ to your system and it's no wonder people choose to Apparate over Floo-ing. But they do it more illegally, too. I know you've never done it, mate, but trust me. You'll like it loads better than that trip you just made."

"Won't take much to improve on that," Harry said. "Oh -- just so you know -- I think Ginny saw me in your fireplace at the Burrow-- but as a canary, of course. Only thing is-- she knows a Canary Cream victim when she sees one."

George glanced at his twin. "Hmmm --- possible complication. Make a mental note, Fred -- debrief Ginny."

"Check," Fred said, sounding official.

"Well, so -- I still don't understand," Harry said. "You two Apparated the same places at the same time I was Floo-ing to cover me?"

Fred and George looked at one another, obviously quite proud of themselves, but Fred spoke first. "Not... exactly. We just made sure _someone_ did--except for the last bit, the Burrow to here -- that one was ours because it was perfectly logical."

"Besides, _we_ didn't want our upstanding businessman-type selves to be overly implicated in all of this evil scheming of yours and Ron's, Harry," George explained, winking. "So we sort of arranged for Dung Fletcher to Apparate to the Ministry the moment you Floo-ed there."

"The Ministry?" Harry asked, sounding shocked. "What in the world did you tell him?"

"Oh , it was quite simple, really," Fred said. "Dung had a business meeting with our imaginary, yet Security-cleared friend, Mr. Keypsia Gessin, who, even though he is a Ministry official, seems to find his fingers in quite a few tasty little pies."

"Yeah," George added. "Great businessman, that bloke -- really finds some amazing deals. Mr. Gessin wanted us to assure Dung that he was ready to bargain for a large supply of black market disposable cauldron liners of questionable origin, perfect for resale-- at highly inflated prices, of course."

"Only thing about Mr. Gessin, though," Fred said with very authentic-looking sincerity. "The man has a terrible habit of living up to his name and not showing for his appointments."

George nodded his head in very serious agreement.

"But wouldn't Dung Fletcher be suspicious of someone who works at the Ministry?" Harry asked.

Fred shook his head. "Harry, Harry, will you never learn? Who do you think _created _the wizarding black market? And where better to run illegal operations than directly under the nose of those in charge of the law?"

"Oh," Harry said, feeling a bit stupid for his own naiveté. "Then who Apparated from the Ministry to the Burrow while I Floo-ed there?"

Fred looked at George, for once seeming a bit worried. "Erm...Dad."

Harry was shocked. "He _knows?" _

"That we're helping you escape?" George asked. "You think we're mental? Actually, Dad seems to think his boss told him he could leave work early today. So he did."

"But won't that get him into trouble?" Harry asked. "If he thinks it was okay to go home, but his boss never said so? I mean, his _real _boss?"

The twins did look a bit doubtful on that issue, but they seemed able to successfully ignore worrying too long about it.

Fred spoke first. "Ah, it's just a couple of hours. Who could be so petty as to quibble about that?"

Harry sighed. This was getting to be quite a mess. He hoped Ron wasn't really going out on a limb here with this Umbridge thing, no matter how suspicious everything seemed. And there were still a few hours to wait until dark...>>>

Again, Ron had paced for a while, wondering what Hermione would think of Carl and Voyde's heated discussion, though it made no sense to him. But Hermione's quarters were no larger than his room at the Burrow and they eventually became equally warm, so he resigned himself to sitting and flipping through the few books Hermione had on her desk. Patience had never been a strong suit for him and this day had really pushed the limit.

It wasn't until nearly four o'clock that Ron heard the lock in the door jiggle soundly, enough to make him grab his wand and bolt to hide in the short hallway to the loo. But a quick open and shut of the door and the familiar voice re-setting the Security Spell put him at ease.

"Finally," Ron said, knowing that there was likely a bit of an edge to his voice.

"Sorry," Hermione said, rather breathlessly. "We had some reports to get out and I couldn't get away any earlier. In fact, I had to beg off with a headache even now."

"So you're working hard then, with this Dr. Null?" Ron asked.

"Well, there was actually more research being done and more complex reports to write before all of these problems with the Yeti came about, but it does seem like there's always something to do," Hermione answered, throwing her jumper on the bed. "That, and I always have to be some sort of human Remembrall for him."

Something about her spending all of that time and doing all of those things with some brilliant scientist rather irked Ron, though he wasn't certain just why. "Although, knowing you, you're probably enjoying that-- all the work -- with Dr. Null, I mean."

"Of course I am! He's a brilliant zoologist, even though they want to investigate him for what happened with Flaime. But I know he's innocent, it's just that they won't take my word without proof, even though I was there. He was trying to protect the Yeti and the handlers were--" Hermione began enthusiastically, then stopped suddenly and eyed him suspiciously. "Wait a minute. You're not starting in on _that_ again, are you?"

Ron was clueless. "On what?"

"Your stupid remarks about Dr. Null wanting to research me, or some such nonsense."

Ron thought a moment longer, then remembered. "Oh -- that's right. I did bother you about that, didn't I?" Then he paused and looked at her warily. _But that couldn't be why she doesn't want to leave...could it? _"So... was I right? Does he?"

Hermione narrowed his eyes at him. "You know, if both of us have to stay in the same room, at least until dark, I'm going to pretend you didn't ask me that." She huffily started toward the bathroom, but he stepped into her path.

"Okay, okay, but it was kinda weird that your good doctor first has some bloke for an intern, and then -- poof!...a few days before the thing starts, they--" Ron stopped dead in the middle of his rant, realizing that he'd just blurted out the very thing he'd fought so hard not to tell her the night before.

"What did you say?" she asked softly.

Hermione looked up into his eyes questioningly, doubtfully, perhaps a little hurt and confused-- and he felt his heart twinge. He _really_ hadn't wanted to be the one to tell her-- and now, because of his own blasted big mouth, it was him that was going to have to explain. He didn't know if there was any foul play behind it or if everything was perfectly innocent and legitimate. But the fact was, it could have been that Hermione was not their first choice of an intern to come to Trapperton.

Ron had to look away from the intensity of her eyes. "Ergh ---I didn't want to have to tell you this way, but it was something weird, Hermione--and it made Harry and me wonder. It could be that you weren't supposed to be here in the first place. In Sharpe's office-- I found a parchment that said some bloke was supposed to be the intern for your zoolowizard this summer. Then there was a copy of a letter sent to him to cancel it-- and the same day your invitation was sent," Ron said gently.

Hermione looked as if someone had slapped her. Her silence was almost painful to him, but he didn't know what else to do or say. He _really_ wished he was better at these things...

"But it didn't say why," he finally blurted, apparently trying to soften the blow. "You know, they probably found your application after his and just decided you'd be better for Dr.--er, what's-his-name. Yeah, thinking about it again, I'm sure that was it." He smiled a bit and tried to pass it off. "It's funny-- at the time, I was really worried and I reckon I was sure that someone had made the switch on purpose, but I 'm not so sure now--"

"But the letter -- it came directly to me, there was no mention..." Hermione appeared to be dazed by the information.

Ron looked at her a bit worriedly, and he really could have kicked himself at this point, considering her reaction.

"You could be right," Hermione finally said matter-of-factly.

Ron could almost see her mind ablaze with thoughts and the effort to look at them logically, instead of emotionally. He wondered if she fought so hard to think about him that logically.

"It could have been either one," she continued. "It's true they didn't give me much time to respond, I remember, only a few days, but I didn't know whether or not that was the way those things are usually handled. Like you said, they could have decided at the last minute that I was the better choice for some reason and cancelled his internship. Or it could have been that someone cancelled his to make sure it was me who came here. Yes...I see how you could think that."

"That's one of the big reasons we wanted to come--along with everything else added in, Hermione," Ron said. "Harry made sure I came for you last night, too. Too many things about you being here are just too-- weird."

Hermione searched his eyes seriously for a moment, then looked solemnly at the floor and turned away from him. She walked to her desk, starting to absently re-organize the books Ron had left scattered on top of it; finally, she spoke, apparently to deliberately change the subject. "So you were the big topic of conversation around camp all day."

Ron was startled from his painful observation of her. "_Me?" _

Hermione shrugged. "Well, of course, they didn't know they were talking about you -- just about the wards being broken and re-set and the popping noise setting off the dogs..."

"Oh -- well, that's a relief...I reckon," Ron said dryly, thinking this was the perfect chance... "Because today, right outside that window--"

A knock at the door interrupted Ron. The two friends looked at one another, momentarily panicked.

Then Hermione moved her hand away from her mouth, looking relieved. "Oh, I forgot..." she said. "It's probably Tod. I asked him to see if Tulip would send me an early dinner--"

Suddenly Ron's face and stomach were both smiling. "Food? Yes! I'm half-starved!"

"Then you'd best get over there in the hallway so he can't see you," Hermione directed, waiting until Ron was hidden to reverse the Security Spell and open the door.

"Greetings, Miss Granger," Ron heard a strangely-accented voice say. "Tulip she sends the headache for the lots of food and hopes it will help."

"Yes, thank you, Tod, I'm sure it will," he heard Hermione say. "Here -- I can take the tray."

"Oh no, no-- Tod takes it inside," he said. "All right is the desk?"

Ron heard light, quick footsteps cross the floor and something being set down.

"We hope all is better, Miss Granger."

"Thank you, Tod," he heard Hermione say. "And please tell Tulip thank you -- it all looks delicious. I'm sure Tulip's cooking could cure most anything."

_It all smells delicious too_, Ron thought, holding his arms over his stomach to stifle the volume of the growls.

"Tulip will know when I go back," Tod said, then Ron heard the light footsteps travel to the door again.

"Goodbye, Tod," Hermione said.

Ron peeked out to see the edge of the door closing, heard the door latch touch, then took two large strides across the room toward the food before the door swung open again swiftly.

"Miss Granger, have the Security Spell on all times when alone, daytime too--"

The two males in the room froze.

Tod gaped at Ron, Ron gaped at Tod, and Hermione gasped as she turned from her desk to see why the room was so silent and tense. Tod said nothing more, but backed out of the door, pulling it shut as he went.

Hermione rolled her eyes skyward as she headed for the door. "Nice one, Ron."

_Stupid stomach! Blame it! _Ron thought, but all he could get out was a sheepish, "Sorry." His eyes followed her. "What are you doing?"

"Fixing this," Hermione said. "We can't just let him leave like that." Hermione leaned through the door and called Tod back into the room. She closed the door behind the hesitant house-elf, re-setting the Security Spell and the Silencing Charm. Then she turned to find Ron and Tod still gaping stupidly at one another.

"Tod, this is Ron Weasley," Hermione began formally. "Ron, this is Tod." She motioned with her eyes for Ron to offer his hand.

At least Ron _thought_ that was what she wanted him to do. He and Hermione had become quite good at reading one another's body language and 'silent indicators', especially when they had had to communicate in their own personal code over Harry's head for most of last year. Ron had no particular problem with shaking a house-elf's hand, it's just that the whole thing felt like such a weird, awkward custom all of a sudden. But he didn't think Hermione would see it that way at all if he refused.

So -- offer it, he did. "Pleased to meet you, Tod."

Tod had been standing with his long-fingered hands clasped uncomfortably in front of him for most of the time he had been in the room. He looked blankly at Ron's extended hand and then questioningly at Hermione.

"It's perfectly all right, Tod," Hermione encouraged. "You're allowed."

Tod leaned closer to Hermione to whisper. "But a wizard he is, miss. Is he not?"

"That kind of difference doesn't make anyone better than you, Tod," she said firmly. "And yes, he is a wizard -- rumor has it." Hermione stated the last with a teasing lilt to her voice and though she at first tried to avoid looking at Ron, she couldn't keep from sneaking a glance.

Ron shot a sneering glare her way, then turned a smile as the house-elf finally took Ron's hand to shake it firmly.

"Your acquaintance is pleased to make it," Tod said formally. Yet as soon as he released Ron's hand, he bowed deeply from the waist.

Both Ron and Hermione had to smile. Old habits were hard to break.

Hermione behaved as if she wasn't sure where to go from here. "Ron is here because...Well, he works for the Ministry. He's here to help out when Dr. Nardstone comes."

"Oh," Tod said, now acting as if he understood better. "For Dr. Nardstone Mr. Weasley works?"

"Oh -- no," Hermione said, a bit worriedly. "Not for Dr. Nardstone. He works for...me. I mean _with_ me. We work together." She pointedly ignored Ron's death look until she corrected her first statement.

A look of realization came across Tod's face. "Ahh --like Tulip and Tod."

Hermione didn't look certain about committing to that comparison. "Well, rather like that, yes."

"Always Dr. Null says partners are Tulip and Tod. Dr. Voyde says mates we are," the house-elf said, appearing to try and understand the nature of Ron and Hermione's relationship. "Mr. Weasley, sir, are you the partner or, may I ask, the mate of Miss Granger?"

Ron was pretty sure he knew what the question meant, even if Tod's terminology was a bit strange in direct translation. Partners would mean they were a couple, right? -- and he didn't want to make any wrong assumptions with that yet. But mates were just friends -- like him and Harry -- and that'd be safe. Yeah, he was quite certain he had this one nailed. He also knew he didn't want to cast a bad light on Hermione's reputation either, even with a house-elf, and the fact that Tod had found him wandering across the middle of her sleeping quarters...

"Oh, yeah -- she's one of my best mates. Has been for some time, actually." He looked over at Hermione proudly, but for some reason she didn't seem as pleased about what he'd told Tod as he expected her to be.

"Then one cabin is enough, and one --" Tod said, obviously trying to avoid letting his gaze drift to the bed.

"Yes, Tod, one cabin is just fine," Hermione jumped in to assure him.

"--For mates," Tod repeated as if to make certain.

Hermione took a deep breath. "Yes, Tod, for mates. One cabin."

Tod was mentally preoccupied for a moment, looking around. "More food? For two?"

Ron thought that was a splendid idea and opened his mouth to say so, but Hermione shot him a warning glance. "Lots of food on one tray is even better -- just like you've brought. Erm...we like to share."

From the very moment she'd dragged Tod in here, Ron couldn't quite figure out just why Hermione was giving the house-elf all of this information. But he'd gone along with her because she obviously had something in mind. However -- "_we like to share"?_ _Since when?_

"Oh, and before you go, Tod... please don't tell anyone that Ron's here -- well, maybe telling Tulip would be okay if you tell her not to pass it on," she said.

"Not tell anyone?" Tod was confused again.

"Ron's -- well -- he's, um...shy," she finally spat out. "Do you know what that means? He doesn't like to be around a lot of people or talk to them much -- makes him _uncomfortable."  
_  
His eyes wide in disbelief, Ron slowly turned to look at Hermione as if she'd just said flying Bandycorns would be here any moment to manicure the nails of everyone interested.

"Ahh -- shy," Tod repeated with a note of understanding. "All's right then. Everyone must be comfortable. Tod has work and must go. Nice to make you meet," Tod said to Ron and then turned to walk out the door. Again he stopped before closing it and pointed upward.

"I know," Hermione said as she followed behind him, wand in hand. "Security Spell -- thank you for reminding me."

"But now you are not alone," Tod noted cheerfully. "It is better so much."

Hermione looked back at Ron and couldn't help but smile briefly. "That part's true, Tod. It _is_ better so much." She closed the door behind the house-elf and fell back against it after re-setting the spells; she released a loud sigh.

"Just how mental are you?" Ron started with a quick change of attitude. "What was all that about?"

Hermione shot him an irritable look and headed for the desk. Looking as if she was considering where to start her explanation, she tore off a piece of scone and popped it in her mouth. It must have tasted good because she immediately tore off another and ate that, too. "You know, I haven't had a thing since breakfast-- and I'm tired of explaining things. Let's just eat." Scooting the chair up with her foot, she sat down and began to eat in earnest from the many items on the tray.

Her tone of voice told Ron that it might be in his best interest to do just that rather than press the issue about Tod. Besides, he certainly had no objections to eating -- that was what had got them into this mess. He dragged over the only other chair in the room, which was old and rickety, and sat down next to Hermione at the desk.

Ron watched her eat for a moment. "So if you get the fork, then I get the spoon."

"Fine. All the better for you to shovel with, I suppose," Hermione said tersely without looking at him.

"Still have a problem with teaspoons then?" he asked, just to be irritating.

"No, actually," she replied haughtily. "I rarely get emotional over them at all. Now can we just eat?"

There was a minute or two of silence, aside from the consumption noises, of course.

"Good thing they gave us lots-- especially since we _like_ to share." Ron pointedly ignored the evil glare he felt boring into his cheek. He knew perfectly well that she'd picked up on the hint of sarcasm in his voice and that was just as he'd meant it. Strange thing was, he found he didn't really mind sharing --not with Hermione, anyway.>>>

Although her nerves were on edge, it felt good to be out in the cool, soft, evening summer air. Hermione was briefly reminded of another evening earlier this summer, alone with her current companion, overlooking the lights of Ottery St. Catchpole at sunset. But that time felt so long ago and so carefree compared to what she'd gone through since and what they were about to embark on.

"When do you reckon she does this?" Ron's deep whisper filled her left ear as he peered over her shoulder; she involuntarily shivered.

It was all perfectly innocent, of course, and she was quite certain that he had no idea how the things he did affected her. Heaven knows she had no idea why they affected her so, either. Ron would just go on doing his normal, everyday Ron things-- it was simply natural to him to stand close, to lean, to touch, to invade someone else's personal space without a qualm--especially someone he trusted and was close to. And it made sense --no doubt living in a small house with a big family of warm, affectionate people made someone grow to think nothing of it.

Of course, that was as long as he wasn't thinking too hard over it -- or if that closeness might be taken to actually _mean_ something. Then everything -- his actions, his words, even his intentions-- froze up and got stilted and awkward. Oh, yes, after five years, she knew that very well.

But right now, they had stationed themselves at the far side of the lab building, on watch for Dr. Voyde at the postal shack. They were hoping to catch her receiving the daily food shipment for the Yeti, thinking they might be able to find some way to record or report her actions and words if she immediately dispatched a good amount of the food to be burned, as Hermione had overheard the handlers discussing.

Hermione knew she should have been thinking about a plan, a way to entrap Voyde and Carl and the rest and help Dr. Null. But what was she thinking about instead? Ron. Ron standing right behind her, cluelessly breathing in her ear, on guard to protect her from any immediate danger after all he'd heard and seen at the Ministry; Ron with his hand planted on the wall above her head to steady himself as he leaned over and around her to look farther toward the lab building for Voyde. Even though he wasn't touching her, she felt warmly surrounded by him -- and she was finding that just a bit overwhelming, considering they had work to do.

She let the lovely feeling continue just a moment longer, and then she took the only course possible if she wanted to actually _think._ She 'accidentally' elbowed him gently in the ribs, causing him to jump, recoil with a surprised "ow", and pull away from her a bit.

"Sorry," she mumbled. She knew she was going to have to get this under control if they were to accomplish what they needed to, especially in a short amount of time. But then, he'd only been here less than a day and after several weeks away from him, she was out of practice in fending off those strong, errant, natural feelings he brought about in her. Besides, she told herself for what felt like the millionth time in her life, they were only friends.

"Ugh," Ron said in exasperation. "This is taking forever. Are you sure she's coming?"

"She _should_ be," Hermione said, frowning. "The shipment has to be accepted by someone, unless they've changed the shipment times to earlier or something. You'd probably know better than I do on that -- do they have a lot of room for adjustments on shipping times-- for the basic, everyday shipments?"

Ron looked thoughtful. "It's kind of weird to be all the way in Scotland thinking about shipping and talking with you about it. Anyway, I didn't work nights, when they do those, but Leo was always complaining about people wanting to add shipments when there was no more time for additions. Probably changes would be the same-- unless those people happen to know somebody big enough to force them."

"Hold on--" Hermione said suddenly, seeing movement behind the commons.

She and Ron both peered into the twilight, trying to make out who was causing it.

"Oh, never mind," Hermione said with some disappointment. "It's just Tod. That's where he lives, behind the kitchens."  
'  
"Seems like a very 'house-elf' place to live," Ron agreed, ignoring Hermione's scowl. "I'm glad we got that all straightened out earlier --about me being in your cabin..." He paused in panic, looking rather like someone who had blundered into the deep end of a lake without thinking, then suddenly remembered they couldn't swim. "I mean, not that I'd mind--it's just...I'm glad that he understood we were just mates because I wouldn't want him to think we were in your cabin doing...well, you know--because we're not..."

Just to irritate him and because she was most interested in what he might say, Hermione pushed on. "Why? That would bother you?"

Ron's ears were already crimson. "Well, of course! I wouldn't want him to get the same idea that stupid Skeeter woman tried to pin on you--that you were some kind of scarlet woman or something..."

"He's a house-elf. It's not like he's going to head back to the newspapers with it..." Hermione said, looking up over her shoulder at him. _Still too close,_ she thought when she found herself fascinated by how tall he was getting and how strong his jaw line was becoming; she purposely tried to lean away a bit.

Ron acted amazed that she would even say such a thing. "Yes, but...Do you think blokes like to have anyone think their, uh, friends-- are like that? Especially girls they're, erm, _really_ close friends with?"

"I did get the impression that some blokes do indeed like girls like that, for a number of reasons."

"Some do--but not for--well, they like them for certain things, but not for a long time, not for a _real_--"

She was quite satisfied that Ron had been reduced to blushing and spluttering. That should get him back in part for all the harassment about 'Bilius'.

"Gah--Hermione, how can you make what I'm saying sound so mad when I'm so sure about what I want to say in the first place?"

Hermione had to stifle her giggle and turn away quickly before he caught the satisfied smirk on her face. "Sorry," she choked out.

Ron and Hermione watched as Tulip wandered out from inside to join Tod.

"So that's his partner, then, is it?" Ron asked.

"Yes, that's Tulip," Hermione answered. "But he wasn't lying when he said Dr. Voyde says Tulip's his mate as well."

Tulip playfully walked her fingers up Tod's back as he bent over to pull a random weed from the small flower garden near the door to their apartment. When she got close enough, she pulled his ear, then jumped back, laughing. Tod stood straight, holding a plucked flower in one hand behind his back and something small and roundish in the other; Hermione guessed it might have been a snail. Tulip couldn't see either item, but Ron and Hermione could. Tod said something in his native tongue that made Tulip gasp in mock fear.

"So..." Ron said, still watching with interest, "what's the difference? They're playing and they're friends and they're--"

They watched as Tulip shrank back, but when Tod pulled out his hand to offer the flower, she burst out in a huge, only partly-toothed elven smile and threw her arms around his neck.

"_What_ does it look like?" _Why_ didn't Ron ever _get it_ about relationships? His own or anyone else's? Not only that, she noticed he was slipping into nervous, stilted, and awkward mode, but Hermione didn't care. "Haven't ever worked much with creatures or animals, have you? Weren't listening in Hagrid's class very well, were you?" She turned around completely and stood her ground, even though she realized she was much closer to him than she'd intended. "Tulip is indeed his partner _and_ his mate, and no, not mates like you and Harry are."

Tod reached up to stick the flower into the hair on top of Tulip's head and, gazing into one another's huge round eyes, the two walked inside hand in hand.

Ron swallowed, still watching, now in shock. "You mean--?"

"Yes, earlier today you were very proud of yourself for convincing him that we were indeed in my cabin doing -- how did you put it? Ah yes, doing 'well, you know'!"

Ron face went several shades redder. "But we're not! We can't have him thinking that! I'd better straighten this out." He took a step away from the building to check for anyone else nearby. When he saw no one, he made as if to head in the direction of the elves' apartment.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione reached out and grabbed him by the elbow, pushing him back into place behind the corner. "For one, it doesn't look like he wants to be interrupted right now. For another, there was a reason that I wanted to let him believe that. Otherwise, he's going to be making arrangements for another cabin for you. He's a house-elf--that's his job--and you know how they are about their jobs. If we ask him not to say anything about you being here, he'll be as silent as a lamb because it's not his job to tell people what he knows about others. But he'll never be able to help himself from preparing another cabin for you if he thinks it's his job--and that would definitely arouse suspicions. Same with the double food trays."

Ron was frowning, looking as if he was arguing with himself over what to do next. Finally he sighed in frustration. "You know, as wrong as it is, you're probably right. Damn! Sorry, Hermione, I didn't mean to--"

She could tell he truly did feel awful about making that implication (not to mention she found his intent to set things right incredibly sweet), but it did happen to be quite a convenient explanation. "I know. You probably did what was best, even if you didn't know it at the time--"

Still looking apologetic, Ron was obviously struggling with the words. "You know I wouldn't say anything like that and mean it-- about you, I mean."

"I know," she said. "It's okay--really. We're the only two that know--and him...Well-- and probably her, now, too."

Ron was horrified anew with that. "_No!_ You think so? He'd tell her?--"

The sudden, loud clang of the habitat gate interrupted Ron's thoughts and words. Both of them swung their attention toward the far side of the camp. It was difficult to see, but if she focused, Hermione could tell it was definitely a man and a woman who were heading into the habitat. The man was far too wide and cumbersome to be Null -- it had to be Carl and Voyde.

"Don't think she'll be coming to accept that shipment right away," Ron whispered. "They're going where the Yeti live, right?"

"Right," Hermione said. "But at night--" As she turned to explain the way things worked at night in Trapperton, she heard nothing but footsteps running away. She turned completely around to follow the sound, spotting Ron as he stopped behind the commons building.

Frantically checking toward the center of the camp for fear that someone had seen Ron, Hermione could see no one except a lone handler with box in hand, far away and heading for the still-open habitat gate. That must have been why Carl and Voyde had left it open behind them. Hermione ran up behind Ron as he checked the far side of the camp for other onlookers. She was worried that she quite clearly understood his intentions.

"Once that git's gone, we're in the clear," Ron said, staring hard at the handler now passing the gate. "What do you think he's got there?

"Hard to say from here, but it could be one of the food boxes," Hermione answered. "But listen, Ron, we can't go into the habitat at night. It's--"

Again, the sound of footsteps in the dirt stopped her warning. The place beside her was again empty, and she focused in the waning light just in time to see the white flicker of Ron's trainers disappearing through the habitat gate.


	21. Silhouettes

_Paint me grateful once more to my wonderful betas **Christina Teresa** and **Seakays**. They are, quite simply, wonderful. Many thanks as well to lovely reviewers **CakeTwins, rgluvr13, JulesFire, and Mist. **Thank you for taking your time to review after I've taken my time to write this for you – it's appreciated immensely! Enjoy! NZ _

**Chapter 21 **

**Silhouettes**

**_Chapter 20 Synopsis:_**  
_Harry receives notice from the Weasley twins that they're going to help him escape the Dursleys and the restrictive security net the Order and Dumbledore have held him in since leaving Hogwarts after fifth year. Their scheme is successful, though Harry has to survive a stomach-turning Floo trip while Fred and George make sure his tracks are covered. While waiting at their premises to leave for Scotland as Fred Weasley, he meets Howard Plunck, a cigar-smoking part-fairy now working for the twins. Meanwhile, Ron thinks about the conversation he overheard between Carl Smeggers and Dr. Voyde. Hermione returns to the cabin after work and as they're talking, tells Ron that the knock they hear at the door is no doubt Tod, the house-elf, bringing food. Ron and Tod accidentally meet and to allay suspicions in the camp, Hermione assures Tod that she and Ron can share one cabin and one food tray since they are, as Ron has proudly told Tod, "mates". While Ron and Hermione wait in hiding for Dr. Voyde to appear and accept the food shipments, Hermione tries to ignore what she feels for Ron after being away from him for so long. Anxious to help Hermione get her 'hard evidence' so they can leave, Ron disappears into the habitat at dusk before Hermione can tell him it's too dangerous to be there at night._

"All right," Harry said. "You can come out now. It's safe. Again."

Howard cautiously peered out from behind an upright rubber chicken that occasionally broke into a tango on the tabletop. "Wow! That was a grand round, wasn't it? Did you hear how loud that last explosion was? Can be a little scary sometimes, but it really gets the blood flowin', you know what I mean?"

Harry thought Howard was just a little too enthusiastic about the entertainment potential of Exploding Snap, but then, maybe it was more exciting when you were thirteen inches tall. He flung his cards on the table in exasperation.

"Twenty-two," Harry said. "You've won twenty-two times in a row now. Are you, what… the Exploding Snap featherweight world champion or something?"

"No," Howard said sincerely. "Nothing like that. Fred showed me how to play just yesterday. Reckon I've just got a knack."

"You don't know how much better _that_ makes me feel," Harry said dryly.

Somehow this wasn't the way he'd imagined his first taste of freedom in a month and a half would be. He'd been stuck in the back room of Fred and George's premises for nearly three hours now, waiting for the sun to set so he could mount up and head for Scotland as Fred Weasley, businessman.

He couldn't really blame Fred and George. They had done all they could to get him a good (easy-on-the-stomach) meal and keep him somewhat occupied (if that's what one could call releasing their part-fairy from his work duties so he could play cards). But the twins truly did have to continue operating their business as usual so as not to arouse suspicions. Both Weasleys had done their best to remember to 'casually' mention to their customers that Fred was going out of town for the next few days and would be leaving tonight. After all, if that was the general consensus about town and there were disguised Order members out there questioning the public in the next few days, it just might buy them some time and credibility.

"What do you think, George?" Harry asked when one of his hosts came back to pull a Split Banana joke item from the shelf for a customer. "Will it be dark enough in another hour or so, you think?"

"Yeah, I reckon," George answered. "Getting anxious to be on your way, are you? Can't say I blame you, mate. I'd be chomping at the bit myself after being hounded all summer like that."

" I can't say it's been easy -- especially when I could have really used some distraction from -- well, you know."

George nodded his head quietly. "It won't be long now, though. Tell you what. I'll finish with this customer and then we'll try to close up early. We've got to come back and brief you with the map and the spell reversals and change your hair color and all before you go--"

Harry was hoping he hadn't heard what he thought he heard. "Hold on. You know, the funniest thing -- I thought I heard you say something about changing the color of my hair."

George looked rather appalled. "What's funny about that?"

"Yeah," Fred chimed in, having wandered in from the front showroom and overheard. "Finish your customer, George -- the door's spell-locked to let him out and then we're done. So what's so strange about changing your hair, Harry? If you're going to impersonate a Weasley, you're going to have to look like a Weasley -- for a bit, anyway."

Harry grimaced. "I never thought about that. Can't I just wear a hat or something?"

"A _hat_?" Fred asked. "Well -- could be done, I reckon. But it'd definitely be more convincing if you were spotted flying off somewhere with shining red Weasley locks. Just till you're well away from London, at least. Here, we'll do a quick change right now. _Wiggo_ _Pintamus!"_

Feeling a crawly sensation on his scalp, Harry was too afraid to look at Fred's expression at first. It was bad enough that Howard had watched the whole exchange, made a terrible face, and then flown wordlessly up to his bird house.

"I don't know..." Harry said, looking up and a bit cross-eyed to be able to see the ends of a few reddish locks from his fringe. "The spell feels kinda creepy. What does it _look_ like?"

"Well..." Fred said, his brow furrowed in thought as he appraised Harry's head.

Harry was beginning to worry. He knew the twins were very good at hiding their own feelings behind their expressions. In fact, Ron had probably developed his uncanny bluffing ability at chess in sheer self-defense. But Fred couldn't even manage to cover himself very well here.

"I hate to break it to you, Harry," Fred began, "but you just weren't born a natural ginger. I mean-- don't get me wrong, you still look fine and all. But I'm just not sure if, say ten meters away, people would think you handsome enough to be me. Now, you could probably pass for George with no problem. People don't expect quite so much of him in the looks department, you know what I mean?"

George wandered in just in time to hear Fred's last remark. "Say what, Fred? Kindly explain that last bit —not sure _I_ know what you mean."

Harry just sighed and rolled his eyes. Surely it had to be dark by now... _please._

_>>>ES _

Just inside the huge gates, he finally spotted her crouching behind some bushes, now and again straightening to see beyond the foliage and scan the area. Ron couldn't think of how to catch her attention without possibly alerting others, and his vantage point wasn't good enough that he could be sure they were completely alone. _A whistle's too loud and might attract too much attention, she doesn't know Fred and George's bird calls... oh- I know!_ Holding his hands curved around his mouth, Ron began to make the soft clip-clopping sound with his tongue that he'd used to panic Umbridge in the hospital wing.

It was obvious right away that Hermione had heard something, but it took her a few moments to locate the source of the sound. Rushing across an open space to join Ron in his hiding place behind an outcropping of large rocks, she slipped on some fallen leaves and slid right into him as she arrived.

"What took you so long?" Ron asked, scowling and helping to set her on her feet as they both stooped lower.

"I had to stop in the lab to get this," Hermione answered in a half-whisper, shoving a bag at him before she peered around the rock to make sure no one had seen her mad dash.

Ron looked inside the worn burlap sack and reached in to pull out a...dog biscuit?

"_What_ do we need these for?" He looked at her in disbelief. _Barking mad,_ he thought.

Hermione crouched down again and turned back to him irritably. "If you'd _listened_ -- I wouldn't have had to bother. We shouldn't even be here right now. I tried to tell you, but you were already gone--"

"I thought you wanted to find out what's been going on with your precious Yetis," Ron said.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "I _do!_ But a fat lot of good it'll do me if we die before I can tell anyone who can help."

"Die?" Ron looked at her oddly. "But I thought you knew how to do sign language with them...or something. You said they were sweet and gentle and loved to learn. I heard nothing about them causing any dying."

"Some of them behave like I told you, yes," Hermione explained, acting a bit uncomfortable with the words and twisting her body around to sit with her back against the rock. "Some of the calmer and better-trained of them. But there are still a good lot who act almost as if they're straight from the wild -- especially around one another...and especially at night. I suppose I didn't mention much about them in my letters. Let's just say they're very powerful, magically, not to mention _extremely_ powerful, physically."

"So now you tell me," Ron said, frowning. "Makes me wonder a bit what _else_ you didn't happen to mention..."

"Don't you dare go and blame me for this, when you're the one to come rushing in here," she said irritably.

"Wasn't it _you_ who said that part of what was going on had to do with the way they were feeding them? Isn't this where they feed them, so shouldn't we be here to find out what's going on?"

She paused, then rolled her eyes impatiently. "Yes, and yes-- I suppose so. Since we are here, we may as well try and get some kind of proof and then get out--"

A loud clang somewhere nearby interrupted her, though they were blocked from seeing whatever caused it by the back of the lab building. Ron had a sinking feeling he already knew what the sound had been.

"That wasn't by any chance the gate, was it?" he asked tentatively. "And since we just passed through it open, that means it just--"

"Closed, yes--" Hermione finished, "And I'm sure it was spell-locked. So we're here now, for better or worse." Even if he couldn't fully see the glare she was giving him in this light, there was no doubt he could fully feel it. "We might as well do what we can and hope for the best on the Yeti's side. Now, whatever we find out, whatever we get as proof, it has to be 'hard evidence', as Dr. Null says. Otherwise, the Ministry won't have anything to do with it. At least that's what Thaddeus Sharpe told me."

"He is a bloody arrogant bastard, isn't he?" Ron blurted out.

Apparently, it was his vehemence that made Hermione smile instead of complain about his language. "I've never thought of him in so many words-- but yes, that's exactly what he is. I wonder if there's any way to somehow take whatever part of the food shipment the handlers were going to destroy and ship it to the Ministry as evidence."

"Yeah, half-burnt and still smoking would be even better," Ron agreed. "Obviously the Yeti wouldn't do that to their own food, so it would have to tie in to someone else here."

"As long as they couldn't somehow pin it on Dr. Null, like they've managed with everything else," Hermione said.

"Only one way to find out, I reckon," Ron said. "Where do they feed them, anyway?"

Hermione gestured for Ron to follow her and she cautiously began to lead him from hiding place to hiding place on their way to the feeding stations. As the two of them skirted the area that held the battered old picnic table, they heard voices and pulled one another deeper into the nearby brush to keep from being seen.

"Look, it's them," Ron whispered, peering out through a hole in the foliage. He gently positioned Hermione in front of him so she could see, too, though he had to pull her hair aside to keep it from fluffing up under his nose. A sneeze would not be helpful right now.

Pamela Voyde and Carl Smeggers both loomed over the tabletop, poring over a large piece of parchment by the light of a glowing oil lamp.

"Can't be too careful about what we say, you know. But if things go as planned..." Dr. Voyde said thoughtfully as she straightened. Her voice carried better now that she wasn't hunched over the parchment. "We'll have all the funding we need for whatever we want and for as long as we want – once we have our very own connection at the Ministry in our pockets. Perhaps we need to be funded for a study of sand crabs on the beach in Jamaica for several years…several _long_ years…" she said dreamily, gazing up into Carl's moonish face.

Smeggers seemed concerned enough about their plan to ignore her thinly veiled flirtatiousness for the moment. "What's to be done about the food shipments while the old man's here? He will expect to see full rations at every station, no?"

"Do you think Nardstone's going to be able to get from one feeding station to the next faster than we can?" Voyde scoffed. "For one, I don't think he'll try. And for another, if he does try, we'll simply beat him to the punch. She says he's pretty much got only one oar in the water these days, anyway."

"You want us to continue the deprivation plan, though, yes?"

"Oh, absolutely," Voyde said. "That's what _she's_ coming to see, never mind what the old geezer's coming for. We want her to be able to see those Yeti at their deprived best-- and that's why we need them both to stay several nights, so we can really put the screws to the creatures. We want the Yeti to show every bit of instinctive aggression they've got. She is paying a lot of money for this, you know. Ahem--I mean, _donating."_

"I told you! _I told you!"_ Ron whispered loudly into Hermione's ear. "There's some hard evidence for you then. Straight from the horse's mouth. There's a '_she'_ coming!"

"Shhhh!" Hermione hissed, lightly slapping at him over her shoulder and hitting him on the chin.

"But the animals have been performing as expected, no?" Carl asked.

Dr. Voyde suddenly turned and reached for Carl's hand, pulling him around to face her. Grinning, Carl laid his beefy hands on the zooliwitch's hips and looked much more the smitten boyfriend than he had this morning.

"Oh yes, darling," she cooed. "Due to your brilliance, of course." Winding her arms around his neck, Voyde reached up to kiss Carl. He hungrily dove in to return it.

"Oh no...ergh!" Ron complained, fighting the urge to gag. "What is it -- Valentine's Day all year here? Does everyone around here have a 'mate', then?"

"No, not _everyone!"_ Hermione whispered pointedly.

Ron could almost feel an odd physical impact from those words assaulting his ears. He shrank away and decided to try and let the words slide by him nice and easy, without having to touch or disturb them in any way, since from the sound of them, they were quite lethal. Perhaps his chances would be better with an irritable Yeti...

But the scene in front of the two of them was impossible to ignore, if only because there was nothing else to focus on. Ron was drawn back to it like someone would be to the ghoulish fascination of a splinching.

"Just look at them...like two pigs fighting over a corn cob. What is it with them, anyway?"

"Big hot and heavy romance, I suppose," Hermione whispered. "Can't seem to get enough of each other."

"Really?" Ron asked. "It wasn't at all like that this morning."

Hermione turned to him. "This morning? What do you mean?"

As quickly and quietly as he could put the words together, Ron explained what he'd heard just outside her cabin window.

"Horses?" Hermione whispered. "I've never even seen a horse here. Are you sure that's what they said?"

"Unless it was code for something else," Ron said. "Yeah, it was definitely about horses and something that 'those animals' did to them."

Hermione furrowed her brow in thought and fell silent again.

Ron noticed the two lovers had stopped their mutual adoration for the moment and were heading for the path that ran alongside the clump of bushes where he and Hermione were hidden. He pulled the still-concentrating Hermione back so that there was no chance they would be seen through the gap in the foliage.

A short time later, as the two friends cautiously approached the feeding station, they could hear the sounds of large creatures moving about, grunting and slurping noisily. Hermione led the way to a hiding spot, ducking easily under a low platform that Ron reckoned had been built there for observations of some sort. Though it was a bit difficult for him to crouch that low, he managed without hitting his head too badly.

Several still-lit oil lamps hung on posts in the middle of the large clearing before them and it was apparent that the handlers had been there only recently. But it certainly didn't seem like they'd left enough food for a number of Yeti to share. In the center of the clearing, on some flat wooden pallets on the ground, sat three open food boxes that had, presumably, been filled at one time.

One tall, lean Yeti, his fur so black that it glinted midnight blue in the reflected light, sat confidently in the midst of the boxes, picking and choosing from the boxes' contents whatever foods he apparently found most tempting.

"Spyder," Hermione whispered absently, staring at the scene in thought.

"What?" Ron whispered in alarm, feeling a rush of tingles. "Where? On me?" He began brushing off his shirtfront and leaned over, ruffling his hair.

Distracted by his movement, Hermione turned to see what he was doing. "No – not on you. Spyder -- that's the Yeti out there in the middle. That's the name he chose for himself."

Ron frowned, feeling a bit embarrassed, and shoved his hair back out of his eyes. "He _chose_ to be called Spyder? I can tell already that he and I wouldn't get on well."

Near the edges of the circle of the light the lamps created, several other large Yeti scrambled for whatever food the black Yeti discarded and threw aside, growling and slapping at one another whenever two approached the same tidbit at the same time. One of the less communicative Yeti that Hermione whispered she recognized as Skye, moved slowly toward one of the boxes that was out of Spyder's range of vision. Or so Skye thought. Just as Skye reached in to pull out what looked like a raw chicken, Spyder stood and turned in one swift motion, powerfully clubbing the other Yeti hard in the side of the head with a Quaffle-sized fist.

Skye dropped the chicken, released a loud, long wail and staggered away toward the edge of the circle of light. At the same time, Spyder drew in air to let out a Yeti roar so loud, shrill, and threatening that Ron and Hermione both covered their ears and shivered their way closer together.

"Not so sure I'm real anxious to stay here now..." Ron whispered.

But before Hermione could reply, something came crashing down from the tree branches above the clearing and landed with a loud thud just behind Spyder. A flash of charcoal gray bent double to grab several items from the boxes, then rolled itself up and disappeared into the forest, with Spyder close behind.

Ron was surprised to look over and see Hermione grinning. "That's _funny?"_

"It's not funny, really," Hermione whispered, still staring at the place where Spyder had disappeared into the woods. "It's just that Leif - that Yeti that dropped from the trees -- amazingly, he not only had the intelligence to form a plan to move in on Spyder, but the courage to actually carry out the plan against odds. Sometimes reminds me of someone else I -- " Hermione turned to look at Ron. "Never mind."

Ron was confused. "What? That was a Yeti?"

"Yes," Hermione answered. "A young teenager, actually. Leif's a male, but he hasn't hit his reproductive prime yet, so --"

"His _reproductive prime?"_ Ron looked a bit unsettled by that remark. "Right, well we don't need the gory details about his personal life, you know. We've had enough about that going on tonight."

"No, no -- " Hermione said in exasperation. "It just helps you understand their behavior, you see. Listen. Hear that brush moving over there? Spyder's already on his way back from the woods. He must not have caught Leif, because we would have heard a lot more scuffling out there in that direction -- not to mention Leif is wicked fast at his age. If Leif would have been an older male, old enough to challenge Spyder, then Spyder never would have given up so easily. But, you see, Spyder has a problem - he can't protect the feeding station _and_ chase Leif. If he's still hungry, he doesn't want the other Yeti to make off with some of his favorite tidbits, though they truly deserve them because they obviously haven't been fed enough to be satisfied. And to Spyder, Leif's not any big threat as a male yet, just more of an irritating youngster -- so he actually gave up on catching him fairly easily. Knowing Leif as I do, Spyder may live to regret that."

Hermione was right about Spyder's predicament. The four other Yeti that had been skirting the edge of the lit area had moved in to feed right away, as soon as Spyder was out of sight. And, amazingly, a number of other Yeti emerged from the cover of total darkness where Ron and Hermione had been unable to see them before. Even two of the females were there that Hermione said she remembered from the cards, but hadn't worked with much. Hille was busy repeatedly collecting food and taking it to the brush at the side of the feeding area, where Ron could vaguely see two smaller faces reflected in the dim light once Hermione had pointed them out.

"Those are her children she's taking the food to," Hermione explained excitedly, "Foxer and Foxly. Oh, this is so wonderful! To see all of them here together! Dr. Null and I saw nothing like this the evening we came because Dr. Voyde made us leave the habitat so early. But I should have done this long ago! Thank you for bringing me out here, Ron!" Their cramped quarters under the platform made it difficult to move much, but Hermione managed to reach for him and encircle his left arm with both of her own. She pressed her head against his shoulder and held it there a few moments before letting go and returning to her absorbed observation of the Yeti.

"Uh...sure," Ron said uncertainly, shrugging and wondering if she remembered that only a few minutes before she'd been criticizing him for dragging them both into so much danger. _Mental, girls are,_ he thought.

Ron continued to stare at Hermione, though she seemed oblivious to his attention. He loved to watch her when she was utterly fascinated by something: her eyes bright and sparkling, her expression intense, her sense of wonder about the world serving to activate that amazing mind that he loved to know was just churning away underneath those bushy curls. And as she studied something, her lips always pursed into that plump little curve that sometimes made him want to... _her **mind,** Weasley, how'd you get from her mind to there…?_

She gasped at what she saw, then growled, "Erfff, stupid Spyder! Look at him, chasing them all away!"

Sure enough, Spyder had come into the circle of light again and all the other Yeti scrambled for cover. Hille had been caught too close to the food and couldn't get past Spyder to hide; she immediately stared toward the ground in the female subservience stance and slowly backed away toward where her children awaited her in the bushes.

Spyder seemed to notice that she still held some type of food in her great hands and he stared after her, making her obviously uncomfortable. She lowered her head even more, but not before Spyder cuffed her hard enough on the shoulder that she had to work to regain her balance. He had, however, let her keep the food.

"Big bully," Hermione muttered. "Thankfully, he won't attack her like he would a male, but he had to let her know it was him allowing her to get away with something. I suppose that's why they decided to keep taking Flaime into the soc lab at night. They said Spyder's aggression was even worse when he had Flaime to back him up -- though it's hard to imagine how that could be so."

Spyder's attention snapped to the treetops above him and he appeared to be staring into the darkness, looking for something there. A few minutes later, more scrambling was heard high in the foliage a short distance away, then an intense and odd, but higher-pitched Yeti call was heard above them all. Whatever the Yeti call meant, it seemed to startle them all and they looked to Spyder to see what he would do. The tall black Yeti became quite agitated, then immediately headed off at a run in the direction of the source of the call.

Ron noticed that Hermione got a strange look on her face. "I wonder...could that call have been -- Leif? Certainly he couldn't be bright enough to bait Spyder so the others could eat...could he?"

"Seems like a bloody good idea, but I'm not Yeti enough to tell you," Ron said.

There was a rustle on the opposite side of the clearing from where Spyder had run and a very regal-looking, but obviously older Yeti came into view in the light. Close behind him walked a mature and beautiful cream-colored Yeti whose eyes sparkled in the glow of the lamp-- quite obviously she was a female.

The other Yeti feeding in the clearing deferred to the presence of the regal Yeti, but didn't seem afraid of him. Ron rather expected him to sit down in the center of the boxes as Spyder had done to eat the remainder of the spoils there. But instead, the older Yeti went to the boxes and pulled the cardboard apart to flatten it, leaving the small amount of remaining food available for all of those around him. Serenely, he pulled a morsel of food from one of the boxes and calmly ate as he watched his fellow creatures.

Still a bit wary after their recent experience with Spyder, the other Yeti finally seemed confident enough to join the older gray one and sat down nearby, all enjoying what was left of the meal together.

"That's Trey," Hermione told Ron. "He's always been sort of the leader of the group -- it's him that Spyder keeps challenging for dominance out here in the habitat."

"Well, this one does seem like far less of a grumpy bloke -- er, creature -- Yeti, what have you," Ron stammered, now watching all of the Yeti feed as well.

"He's definitely more fair to all of them," Hermione assured. "And from what Dr. Null tells me, he commands far more respect, which is part of Spyder's problem. That female with him -- that's Starr. Remember, I told you about her?"

Sadly, it didn't take long for the Yeti to finish off what food was left. None of them looked especially satisfied; Hille's youngsters were making an odd sort of whining noise and jumping around in front of their mother as if they wanted more. Some of the grown Yeti were rooting around under the flattened cardboard, apparently still searching for scraps.

One by one, the Yeti started to wander away forlornly into the darkness. Hille let her children play for a few minutes once they had been distracted from their apparent hunger, but then she collected them and led them off through the trees. Although Trey and Starr had arrived late, they watched until most of the other creatures were gone, then looked at one another for a long, sad moment and slowly walked away together.

Hermione sat staring at the empty clearing for a short time, obviously thinking hard. "This is just wrong -- so wrong," she mused. "How could those handlers -- how could _anyone -- ?"_ She stared into her lap.

Ron wished he had something comforting to tell her. But he really knew too little about the situation to offer much help yet.

"That's it," she declared as she got to her feet, then shoved her way past some low weeds toward the other side of the platform.

"Hermione, where --?" Ron started, trying to follow her, but he stood too quickly and bumped his head.

She acted as if she hadn't heard him, but cleared the platform base and walked straight out into the lamp light for anyone, or anything, to see.

"Get down! What --" Ron said quietly, desperately worried that Spyder or some other Yeti with a bad attitude would show up. He started to follow, then realized he'd nearly left the burlap sack behind; but if Hermione was already upset about what had happened, he didn't want to get an earful just for leaving the dog biscuits... Ron snapped up the bag and wrapped the empty sack end around his fist.

This time, it was Ron who saw only the back of Hermione as she strode deeper into the habitat. Quickly checking to see if there were any creatures still about, Ron crossed the circle of light the lamps made and started into the trees. _So she doesn't seem a bit concerned about making her presence known-- and after all she warned me about..._ he thought fleetingly, then promptly concerned himself with her welfare above his concern to be self-righteous.

"Hermione, wait!" Ron half-whispered to whatever kept crashing through the brush ahead of him in the darkness and snapping the branches back in his face. _Hopefully it's her…_"Don't you dare take off on me!"

"Then keep up!" he heard her say quietly. He was both relieved to hear her voice ahead of him and irritated that she wouldn't stop.

"Where are we -- ?"

In a panic that Hermione would walk right out in front of a rampaging Yeti, Ron took a deep breath and launched himself in her direction through the pitch-black brush at a dead run. He barely had time to slow down without toppling Hermione, then followed closely behind her for another twenty meters. Little did he know that she, too, was doing her best to track creatures in the dark just as he'd been doing.

"Damn, Otto!" said a deep, accented voice straight ahead. "The bastards are back already!"

Ron and Hermione stopped the instant they heard the voice, trying to hear the words, but as soon as they did, they bolted straight ahead to a pile of large rocks that lay just in front of a small open area among the trees. Beyond the tiny clearing was what appeared to be a cave in a tall rock wall.

The opening was illuminated by the lanterns of two large men who had just emerged from inside the cave. One of the men was also holding something else – some kind of a large box with a handle – Ron could see nothing sticking out of the box to give him any clues to what was inside, but it appeared to be heavy for the one carrying it.

Stopped and facing the men, between the rocks from where Ron and Hermione watched and the entrance to what must have been their home, were Trey and Starr. Their large, furry outlines loomed black against the backdrop of lantern light.

The Yetis' silhouettes were still for a moment, but then a deep, threatening growl echoed from the stone wall; Ron reckoned it came from Trey. As the growl became louder and more menacing, the male Yeti started walking quickly toward the men, whose eyes grew wide at the sound, or the sight, or both.

"Get back, yeh bloody monkey!" one of the men yelled as both of them drew wands and pointed. "Get back er we'll blast yeh!"

Ron felt Hermione flinch in front of him and he reached out to grab her shoulder. "No, not yet! We don't know how many there are -- Yetis or wizards!"

"I have to help!" Hermione pushed his hand away and started forward.

Flashes exploded in Ron's mind...Death Eaters...Dolohov...a deathly silent streak of purple flame... Hermione falling. Hundreds of times since Ginny had told him about the night in the Department of Mysteries, Ron had imagined the hateful sneer on Dolohov's face. Hundreds more, he'd imagined what he would have done to save Hermione. This time he had a chance to keep her from throwing herself in the path of danger-- he'd throw himself on that path in front of her if he had to.

Head pounding and scars stinging, Ron flung his free arm around the front of her shoulders to hold her back. "No! Think!" he whispered urgently in her ear. "You can't get in the middle and help right now. The men can't leave you around to blow the whistle on them once you've seen them -- and is a furious Yeti going to know you're a friend in the dark? What good can you do them all if you're dead? Even with the two of us, we can't take all of them on at once! You'll never get proof and find out what those prats were doing in there..."

"But they'll hurt him --" Hermione choked out.

He could feel the angry tension in her body; reflexively, she clutched at his arm with both hands to pull it away, but he wouldn't give in. Finally, she drew a deep breath and let it out in exasperation. Her muscles relaxed a bit and she threw her head back onto his chest momentarily. But the tension returned the instant they both heard the two voices.

"_Dolorus Maximus!"_

Trey's low growl turned into a startled yelp as they watched the huge being fall to his knees. Starr howled when she saw Trey go down and she began to growl as well, until the shadow of Trey's arm shot out in front of her.

"No!" Hermione whimpered, then covered her mouth with her hand and leaned into the crook of his arm. As the two of them faced the scene, Ron held her closer to him, both to make certain she wasn't going anywhere and to lend whatever comfort he could.

But the huge creature wouldn't give up. Trey's dark outline moved awkwardly, apparently through the great pain caused by the spell; they watched him fling one leg out in front of himself to try and struggle to his feet.

Otto began to lift his wand again. Ron could feel Hermione position herself to try and struggle free.

But a ferocious Yeti cry in the distance was quickly answered by one much closer, and just as fierce. Trey and Starr had been heard. There was crashing through the brush. Something was coming their way -- fast -- and it didn't sound happy.

The handlers looked at one another in terror, then back at Trey.

Ron could see the great old Yeti on one knee as he reached up with both long, muscular arms and beat on his chest in a show of male dominance. He released a call just as threatening as those from the forest. Obviously, injured or not, Trey wasn't giving up the fight.

"Don't know about you, but I'm done here, Hank," Otto said without taking his eyes off of Trey. Then both handlers turned on their heels and fled, the light from their lanterns flashing high into the trees as they ran and, ridiculously, Ron thought, pointing out exactly where they were to any Yeti who might be watching.

Although Ron could see only vague differences in the shades of black before him, the sliver of a moon above illuminated the area just enough to see two grown Yetis emerge from the brush to the west of the clearing and rush to Trey. They stayed with him and Starr a moment, there were some unintelligible noises between the group, then with a yell from one, the two who'd just arrived took off after the handlers.

"You don't know how much I want the Yeti to catch those prats," Hermione said quietly. Releasing her hands where she'd been clutching Ron's arm under her chin, she wiped at her face, then took a step away to lean against the rock before them, watching the two Yetis who'd been attacked.

The one Hermione called Starr was hovering over the male and making some kind of noises to comfort him; within a few minutes, Starr had helped Trey to his feet and assisted him into the cave. A flickering light appeared from inside the cave a few minutes later, presumably from a newly-lit fire inside.

Ron decided the worst of the incident was over. "Sorry I had to stop you, but I wasn't sure what any of them would do if they saw you charging out there—"

"Who says you stopped me?" Hermione said flippantly. With that, she bent down and picked up several tiny pebbles, flinging them at the cave entrance.

Horrified, Ron couldn't believe what he was seeing. "What are you _doing?"_

"I'm not going back until I see why they were in there," Hermione said resolutely. She bent down and collected another round to throw. "I mean, why would the handlers be in the Yetis' cave alone when Trey and Starr were gone? I could see if the handlers were going to do something to the Yeti themselves because that's the sort of thing they've done before, but what could they be doing to their _cave?"_

"Are you _mental,_ Hermione?" Ron asked, shaking his head. "So you have a wounded creature inside-- and you know how anything wounded will act. You've told me they're strong. They're hungry and have already been through a rough night tonight -- and you want to make a social call? I'm really doubting that they're up for it. And -- if you're so set on going -- then why not stroll right in?" he added sarcastically.

"It's their home, Ron," Hermione explained in exasperation. "Their territory, their lair. You saw how protective Trey was. You don't just 'stroll right in' unless you're invited."

"And so you go looking for an invitation by throwing rocks at their front door? I think you've been at this place a little too long." He shook his head and turned away from her, unable to watch such insanity any more.

"I'm done throwing rocks, for your information -- not that the Yeti would have seen those tiny pebbles as any kind of threat," Hermione explained. "Besides, she's at the door now."

And with a quick rustle, Ron heard Hermione push her way through the last line of brush and head into the small clearing in front of the cave.

He didn't turn in time to keep her from her goal, but if she was off, he was going to follow. "Hermione, why are you so intent on --" Bursting through the last bit of brush himself, Ron saw Hermione standing perfectly still in the clearing, the dim light from the cave illuminating her face.

"Shhhh! Stand still, you're scaring her!"

Ron froze and looked toward the cave, where the silhouette of the female Yeti looked as if it stood tensed to withdraw or poised to attack.

"She doesn't really understand why we're out in the habitat," Hermione explained quietly to Ron. "I've never been out here at night like this before. Just give her a moment, she'll be all right."

"No problem," Ron said nervously. "Got all the time in the world."

Starr had begun to move forward and Ron could now get a much better idea of just how large the Yeti really were. She was within four meters of Hermione now, and Hermione barely reached her rib cage -- if a Yeti had a rib cage.

"Friend, Starr," Hermione said quietly. "Hermione friend."

Starr looked a bit confused, but she cautiously moved to touch Hermione's hair.

Worried, Ron decided to break his position and get closer to Hermione. Starr jumped and backed away quickly, taking a defensive stance.

"Stop, Ron!" Hermione said in irritation. "You're going to ruin it!" She turned her face towards him and he could tell by her expression that she meant business. He froze once more.

"Starr...Ron," Hermione said, pointing at him. "Ron friend."

But Starr looked wary and wouldn't budge. In fact, she kept eyeing the cave entrance, which made Ron nervous. _So, is the chest-beater on his way out now? At least since he's been hit with a spell, **maybe** we could outrun him..._

"Hmmm. Perhaps it's because you're a male," Hermione said, biting her lip.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Well, there's not a right lot I can do about that now, can I?"

"Ron friend," Hermione repeated to Starr, watching her response.

Starr pointed at herself then Hermione, then from Hermione to Ron.

"Yes, that's right," Hermione said. "Ron friend like Starr friend." Still focusing on Starr's face, Hermione turned enough to whisper to Ron. "Walk to me very slowly, no sudden moves, no arms above shoulder height."

With his eyes glued to Starr, Ron complied with Hermione's request, even though he wasn't too comfortable doing so.

"Now -- give me your hand," Hermione instructed.

Ron looked at her oddly.

Closing her eyes in exasperation, Hermione had to repeat. "Just – do it, please."

Ron did as he was told and Hermione clasped his hand in hers. Then she held their clasped hands up for Starr to see. "See, Starr? Hermione friend Starr, Ron friend Hermione, Ron friend Starr."

This seemed to encourage Starr to hesitantly approach the two of them together. The Yeti stared into Ron's face first, which felt odd because, though she could see him in the reflected light, he could see little of her in the dark as she faced him. Once she'd had enough of his face, she moved her huge hand to his hair and proceeded to grab one of the locks that was forever falling into his eyes.

Hermione looked toward the interaction between the two and Ron could feel her hand jerking a bit in his as she tried not to giggle.

"You're cross-eyed," Hermione whispered in delight.

Ron realized that his eyes had been hurting as he tried to watch what the Yeti was doing to his head. He closed them tight to get straightened out, hoping Starr would be finished rubbing his hair between her fingers once he opened them again.

A loud Yeti yell somewhere toward the back of the habitat startled them all. An answering call came from the direction of the main gate into the habitat. They could hear men shouting as well, and next came the loud barking of dogs.

"They're releasing the dogs," Hermione said, a bit worried. "More is going on out here than we've seen tonight."

Starr looked up and glanced around the tallest treetops, appearing concerned by the sounds as well. She moved closer to Hermione as if to protect her, then pointed a long, Yeti finger at her and motioned for the girl to come with her to the front of the cave. It took her longer to make up her mind, but very slowly and thoughtfully, Starr pointed to Ron as well and motioned for him to accompany them.

Ron had a sudden thought and whispered as he and Hermione began to walk slowly. "Now I know you think you want to go in there, but what if they won't let us out once we've gone in?"

"Why wouldn't they let us out?" Hermione asked, but her brow was furrowed just a bit.

"Who knows?" Ron said. "You're the best Yeti expert we have here, so if you don't..."

"I'm sure we'll be fine," Hermione said, sounding as if she was trying to convince herself as much as Ron. "Trey and Starr have always acted very civilized. Plus, well – you know why we're here."

The three of them were about to cross the threshold into the cave itself. Ron felt more comfortable that it was getting brighter and he could see better due to the fire inside, but at the same time he was getting less comfortable that he might be presented with things he didn't want to see. Visually scanning the first big room in the cave, Ron saw no sign of Trey, but he could also see that there must be another room beyond, through a darkened alcove. Perhaps Trey was there, he thought, and he sincerely hoped the great Yeti was alone.

He felt Hermione's hand still clasped warmly in his own. Ron was quite aware that she had only taken his hand to convince Starr he was friendly – _(hadn't she?)_ .Whether Hermione had then forgotten, or whether it was to protect him still as her friend in the Yeti's eyes, he didn't know. But either way, he was glad she wasn't going anywhere without him knowing…

Starr seemed to feel awkward having a wizard and witch in her home. She pointed to the ground next to the fire, which Ron assumed meant that she was inviting them to sit down. But between his nervousness and the fact that it was sweltering hot in the cave already, he really wasn't too excited at the prospect.

"This is probably so strange for her," Hermione said quietly.

"So strange for _her?"_ Ron asked. "What about _us?"_

"Look how nervous she's acting."

Starr was indeed wringing her large hands and pacing close to the wall. In fact, she hadn't moved away from that wall since Ron and Hermione had entered.

"She's probably thinking that one of those lunatic creatures who's screaming in the forest is going to come screaming in here," Ron said. "And frankly, so am I."

There was a rustle near the cave door and Ron felt Hermione's grip on his hand tightening.

"Ow," she muttered, and he reckoned he must have unknowingly tightened his grip on hers as well.

Soft, padded footsteps were heard coming through the entrance as Ron pulled Hermione back so that the fire was between them and whatever was on its way into the room. Dropping her hand and the sack of dog biscuits to the ground, Ron reached into his back pocket and drew his wand. He wasn't sure what he'd have to do to get them out of this alive, but neither the churning in the pit of his stomach nor the hairs standing on end on the back of his neck were going to keep him from making sure Hermione made it out unharmed this time.

"_You know it's in there, Weasley,"_ he thought, remembering the pep talk he'd given himself before the Quidditch Cup final. "_Show her. This is your chance. Hero's heart, don't fail me now!"_


	22. From Twilight to Darkness

_Once again, thank you to my wonderful beta readers, **Christina Teresa** and **Seakays**, both of whom are multi-talented and wonderful through and through. Not only that, thank you to my wonderful readers and reviewers. You might well be reminded again that this fic is rated PG-13 (sadly not due to the R/Hr this time ;) ) and that lunch may not go well with the reading of this chapter. Hope you enjoy it anyway. You're the best, you know. NZ _

**Chapter 22**

**From Twilight to Darkness**

**_Chapter 21 Summary:_** _Harry sits in the back of Fred and George's shop, anxiously awaiting nightfall so that he can set off for Trapperton. In the meantime, now trapped in the habitat, Hermione tries to explain to Ron that they may be in great danger. They decide to make the best of it, heading for the Yeti feeding station to see if they can collect evidence proving the intentional deprivation of the Yeti. On the way, they happen upon lovers Carl Smeggers and Dr. Voyde discussing that they will soon have someone from the Ministry 'in their pockets'. At the feeding station, Ron and Hermione witness Spyder, the bullying Yeti, gorging himself on what little food the Yeti are given while the others get very little. Leif drops from the trees to harass Spyder and draw him away, baiting him so the others can eat. Trey and Starr appear and share what little food remains with the entire group. After the Yeti leave, Hermione follows Trey and Starr and watches from cover as two handlers leave their cave carrying a box, but the handlers don't leave before casting a pain curse on Trey. Because the Yeti throughout the forest are agitated, it's too dark to recognize even friends well, and the handlers would wish Hermione harm, Ron holds her back from jumping into the fray to help Trey. The handlers are chased away by two other grown Yeti who appear, Trey withdraws to the cave, and Hermione introduces Starr to Ron. Ron and Hermione enter the cave at Starr's invitation and to avoid whatever angry Yeti are heard lurking in the forest. Everyone in the cave hears footsteps approaching from the entrance and Ron draws his wand, determined to protect Hermione from harm this time._

Ron stood with his wand readied, the licking flames of the large fire before him partially obscuring his view of the creature entering the cave. He glanced to one side to see Hermione concentrating as well, her wand held high _(... so I'll just save her before she saves herself...)_.

Glancing to his other side, he saw Starr cowering against the wall, apparently more in fear of the wands than of whatever was walking into her home.

A figure of charcoal gray casually sauntered in from the shadows.

_...Some of these Yeti aren't so tall, Ron told himself. Unless it's finally the courage talking...I'm ready, I can do this, I can take that raging Yeti down, even without permanently hurting him, she'll see I can make up for that stupid night..._

"Leif?" he heard a startled female voice say from far away. "Lower your wand, Ron."

_But there isn't much raging, and someone's talking..._ "Huh?"

Hermione laid her hand on top of his wand hand and gently pushed downward. "Ron! Put your wand down. It's just Leif."

Leif had indeed stopped dead in his tracks, apparently taken aback by the fact that two humans were standing in the middle of Trey and Starr's cave; he seemed able to tell they weren't handlers, but they did have wands pointed in his direction. Once he recognized that one of the humans was Hermione and the wands went down, the creature's whole demeanor changed. Suddenly, the saunter turned to a swagger, and he immediately circled the fire to stand next to Hermione.

Ron watched the metamorphosis suspiciously before he spoke. "Do Yetis smile?" He did note with some satisfaction that Leif was only about a foot taller than he was.

"What?" Hermione asked. "Of course not!"

_Ha! That's what **you** think,_ Ron mentally replied, scowling and somewhat reluctantly tucking his wand away in his back pocket.

Hermione looked up at Leif and gently pulled her hair away from his leathery fingers; he'd been tugging at one of her curls repeatedly just to watch it spring back into place.

"You've been busy tonight, Leif – " she said, "--and you look rather pleased with yourself. I'm beginning to wonder if you did bait Spyder on purpose."

Leif's brow furrowed in confusion at the words; he scanned the room.

"No, sorry," Hermione said, showing him her empty hands. "I didn't bring any cards." She looked around until she spotted what she'd been looking for -- a stick that Starr had used to poke the fire when she and Ron had first come in. Picking it up, Hermione started drawing rectangles on the dirt floor with simple pictures inside each one.

Ron tilted his head to try and decipher what they meant. "So this how you talk with them? Except usually with cards instead of dirt, I reckon."

"This is part of it," Hermione explained.

"What's that, then?"

"I was just asking him if the Yetis ever caught up to those handlers tonight," Hermione answered. "But he doesn't seem to know -- or can't tell me without the cards. The Yetis communicate with us, too, when they can use the cards."

"Then maybe one of you two ought to talk with _her_," Ron said, nodding toward Starr, who was still looking fearful and worried next to the wall. She appeared to be getting even more upset watching Hermione etch pictures in the dirt.

Leif had acted as if he was at home from the moment he'd walked into the cave and Ron got the impression that he might live there, too, or at least be a frequent guest. The young Yeti had previously been so interested in Hermione (not to mention he'd pointedly ignored Ron) that he hadn't seemed to notice what Starr was doing. Trey was still notably absent.

Hermione turned first. "Starr, what _is_ wrong?" She walked over next to the cringing Yeti.

Starr began vehemently shaking her head, but still she would not budge from the wall. The Yeti dipped her shoulder down a bit as she gently tried to push Hermione away and Hermione must have seen what Ron did at the same time.

"What...is that?" Hermione asked softly. "Something's on the wall, Ron -- can you see it?"

"Yeah," Ron answered, stretching upward to try and see over Starr's shoulder. "Can't tell what it is, though -- paint of some kind, looks like."

Hermione tried to lean around Starr to see the wall. As she continued to make soothing comments to the Yeti to calm her, Leif moved next to Starr as well.

Starr and Leif began some kind of Yeti communication that involved an exchange of soft pops and grunts, whistles, and apparently, mental telepathy. Starr was adamantly against moving, but it seemed Leif wanted her to so that Hermione could see what was on the wall. Leif finally managed to coax Starr aside.

Hermione gasped and Ron stared. Leif was still trying to console Starr, who was watching Hermione's reaction to what was on the wall with great concern. Oddly, Ron thought, Starr seemed almost ashamed.

The entire wall had sprung into crude drawings etched in primal colors. The drawings were separated and surrounded by large rectangles like Hermione had been scrawling in the dirt to resemble cards. Like all magical pictures, they moved. Starr must have been performing some type of concealment magic on them at first -- probably why she had refused to move for so long. Once the full drawing had appeared, one actually had to walk several steps along its length to be able to take in the whole wall.

But the drawings there were nothing like Hermione's. The first on the left showed a Yeti standing alone. In the second, the same Yeti was holding some sort of crude, pestle-like weapon in his hand and bashing the head of a small animal, probably once a rabbit, over and over again. It was apparent from the great amount of blood all over the ground in the picture that the animal was quite dead. The last picture in the first row was of a horse.

"A horse!" Ron exclaimed. "Remember that dog-man and Voyde? I told you they said something about a horse!"

From his vantage point, Ron could only see Hermione's back -- and he noted that she hadn't moved since the pictures had appeared. He stepped forward and saw that her hand was held to her mouth as it often was when she was shocked by something. "You know that Yeti?" he tried to ask gently.

"No, I've never seen that one -- actually, it's a badly-drawn version of a generic picture, I think -- one we've used in the lab," she answered, then paused a long moment. "And the paintings mean...if you read them together, they mean...something awful, but I'm not sure why the Yeti would do this. I didn't think they _could_ do this."

Her voice was quavering. Ron looked over to see there were tears pooling in her eyes.

"Leif?" she squeaked out. Using the Yeti picture on the wall, Hermione tried asking Leif with pictures and gestures if the images had been painted by Yeti.

Since the moment Ron had first seen him, Leif had seemed cool and collected, even in the face of the dangerous Spyder, but Hermione's question affected the young Yeti so intensely that it unsettled Ron, too.

Leif began shaking his head 'no' almost before Hermione had finished asking the question. Then he strode to where she had roughly drawn the card for 'handlers' in the dirt. Leif very emphatically pointed at the handler's picture, then at the paintings on the wall. He kept pointing back and forth until Hermione laid a hand on his shaggy forearm to calm him and to convince him she understood the wall pictures were none of the Yetis' doing.

"That's it, then. That's what those handlers were doing tonight -- and part of what they've been doing all along, most likely." Hermione looked even more distressed now, but this time she was getting angrier. "It's like the cards, Ron. The handlers – they've tried to copy the cards Dr. Null devised to communicate with the Yeti. But they've twisted it—all of it -- all of his wonderful research. They've tried to tell the Yeti something horrible that I don't understand."

"Well, it's obviously ugly," Ron said, looking as if he had a bad taste in his mouth "But what do they say, exactly?"

"They read, '_Yetis kill horse'_," Hermione said. "The second row says, '_Kill horse good'_."

"You have a card to show killing?" Ron questioned. "Yetis tell you about killing lots of things?"

"No," Hermione said, perplexed. "Hardly ever. I mean, when they do, it's about killing a bird or a fish for food. They've never told me about killing something as large and intelligent as a horse. They're not killers -- in their social circles, there's evidence that a Yeti can be banished for killing --they respect life. In fact, Dr. Null says that, in spite of all the ancient stories and legends where the Abominable Snowmen or Bigfoot or whatever the locals call them are shown as frightening creatures, there's never been proof that they've killed anything larger than a goat --and that was likely for food. They've saved the lives of wizards and Muggles found hurt and on their own in the forests or the mountains." Hermione couldn't seem to reconcile the pictures and the message with what she had learned about the Yeti both in books and in the lab. "They're usually so gentle..."

A movement out of the corner of his eye distracted Ron and he saw Starr get to her feet. She slowly walked to the wall and pointed at the 'kill' picture, then she turned to Hermione. Holding one hand out flat, she proceeded to put the thumb and forefinger of the other hand together high in the air and draw a line coming straight down to her flattened palm. There, she opened the descending hand, but held it upright with her fingertips on her palm like some type of standing creature.

"What's that?" Ron whispered to Hermione.

"I'm not sure," Hermione answered, her brow furrowed in thought. "The horse? But then, what's that coming down?"

Ron had the sense to know, after all of these years, that she wasn't really asking him for an answer; she was really asking herself. _Good thing, too,_ he thought, because he hadn't a clue what the pantomime meant.

Hermione shrugged and gestured for her to do it again.

Leif, after watching Starr expectantly, had started acting very oddly: crawling about the cave on top of any flat surfaces high or low and poking around in the corners. Ron just assumed it was normal behavior for young Yetis who spent an inordinate amount of time climbing about in the trees. But he planned to check with Hermione and see if they should be concerned for their safety just as soon as she had figured out what Starr was trying to tell her.

Hermione was still shaking her head, even after Starr had repeated the hand movements. This time, Starr left her fingers dancing on her palm for some time, hoping that Hermione would somehow pick up the meaning from that.

"Rain?" Hermione guessed, clearing a spot in the dirt and drawing the picture for it on the ground.

Starr's head fell to her chest in disappointment and her expression dulled as well. The Yeti scanned the room, apparently searching for another way to get the message across. Her eyes fell on the stick Hermione had used to draw. Tentatively, the Yeti reached for it, asking permission with her eyes.

Hermione's jaw dropped. "You want the stick? You want to draw? Oh, great Merlin, Ron, she wants to draw to show me!"

Ron wondered if he had missed something. But Hermione was obviously way too excited about this for him to say "So?" like his mental reflexes told him to do.

"Isn't that wonderful!" Hermione said excitedly. She reached out and grabbed his arm. "Say something, Ron!"

_Damn! Say what?_ "Erm…good?"

"Don't you understand?" Hermione asked breathlessly. "She wants to communicate with something she writes! She understands the importance of language! The Yeti have never had a written language before -- it's why they have no written history. She could be the start of them becoming a real civilization, Ron! Oh, I've _got_ to tell Dr. Null!"

"I think he may be interested in what else we've found in here, too," Ron said, gesturing aimlessly toward the wall paintings. "Unless you think he may have had something to do with them."

"Oh, of course he wouldn't!" Hermione said emphatically, then thought a moment. "Would he?"

Ron was just moving himself into position behind Hermione to see what Starr had scratched out in the dirt when they were all startled by the high-pitched squealing of a small animal. Ron, Hermione, Leif, and Starr looked toward the source of the noise and froze in shocked silence.

Spyder strode into the cave as if he owned the place. The huge Yeti ducked his head through the doorway and stopped to assess the situation, apparently nonplussed by the struggling and screeching of the opossum whose neck he held in his enormous right fist. Staring boldly and long into each face before him until he moved onto the next, Spyder didn't flinch as he squeezed the life from his small victim and ripped the animal in two. Without breaking his gaze, he lifted one gruesome half to his mouth and fed, the blood dripping through his teeth and onto his chin fur as he slowly chewed.

Ron could almost feel Hermione shiver from in front of him and she made a strange little noise, as if it took some effort not to turn away from the scene in disgust; bravely, she still faced forward. He himself had to battle the urges pushing at him from somewhere deep inside his gut. It was a moment before either friend had recovered enough from their stupor to draw their wands. He edged his way forward next to Hermione.

Spyder stood between them and the door. They could only hope that his show of bravado was intended to warn and frighten them and that once he'd finished, he'd leave as quickly as he came. But the only way they could possibly even the score with an animal the size and strength of Spyder was to wait and see which way he made a move.

"Oh...god..." Hermione breathed during the stand-off as Spyder stared ominously at Leif for some time.

"I know," Ron whispered. "Bloody sick bastard."

"That, too, but...I know what she means."

"What?" Ron asked.

"Spyder," Hermione said. "That was a spider that Starr was trying to show us."

Ron grimaced. "I've told you nothing good comes of spiders."

Hermione ignored him. " 'Spyder kills', she was trying to say. I think he's killed something much bigger than that opossum."

Spyder had finished his little snack. After wiping his blood-stained hands on his belly fur, he focused on Ron and Hermione. The huge, black Yeti had only managed to take two steps toward them before Starr threw herself in front of the two teenagers. Scolding Starr loudly in Yeti-speak, Spyder grabbed her roughly by the shoulder and shoved her easily aside.

Ron winced at the resounding thud as Starr's body hit the cave wall, then slid to the ground. She was moving, but seemed dazed.

Hermione instinctively stepped forward only to stumble over the sack of dog biscuits on the ground. Her wand hand went down to help her catch her balance, and Ron knew that meant her guard was down, too.

A split second later, Ron had thrown himself between Hermione and Spyder. Without knowing what the Yeti's intentions were, he spread his arms and held his wand high, incantations speeding through his mind. But, oddly, he sensed he wasn't alone.

Directly to his right stood Leif, feet firmly planted, shaggy arms spread to protect Hermione as well. Leif glanced at Ron the moment Ron looked at the young Yeti, both of them a bit perplexed at what they'd done in tandem. But they had no time for confusion now and looked back toward the real threat.

Spyder scowled at them both, apparently angered by the insolence of the two young males. He straightened his shoulders, drawing himself to his full, intimidating height, and sent forth a war cry that was loud enough to shake the cave floor.

Chills circuited Ron's body and his ears rang with the echoes in the cave. Once his mind had cleared he watched Spyder move to within five meters of where they stood.

"_Stupefy!"_ Ron shouted and a bolt of red light streamed from his wand.

Ron's eyes went wide when an enormous fireball flew from the campfire and exploded at Spyder's feet. He knew immediately the fireball hadn't been his and once more he found himself gaping at the young Yeti next to him in surprise.

But Spyder was still coming. A bit dazed and sluggish for a moment, the Yeti shook his head to clear it. Somehow he'd managed to shake off the Stunning Spell and ignore the smoky flames from the fireball; his glazed eyes cleared to a glare that was even decidedly more evil than it had been before.

Leif read the look in Spyder's eyes very quickly. He reached one long Yeti arm to the side and shoved Ron behind him, much to Ron's irritation. Even worse, Hermione grabbed Ron's arm and held on, effectively keeping him from jumping back into the fray.

His eyes fixed on Spyder, Leif continued shoving Ron and Hermione together and backwards behind him, as if he was trying to herd them in a certain direction. When he started backing around the fire, the two teenagers finally understood that Leif was trying to move them towards the cave door and still stay between them and Spyder. If they could only circle all the way around the fire without Spyder getting the advantage...

Finally, they had almost reached the point where there was a clear path to the door. But Spyder was almost within a Yeti arm's reach of Leif by now. Ron, Hermione, and Leif could all see the dark anticipation in Spyder's eyes...

A sudden movement from the back of the cave startled them all. Trey limped wearily into the room, looking weak on one side, but ready for battle nonetheless, if that was what it took to defend his home. He took one look at Starr, who was now trying to stand feebly from the floor, and let forth a bellowing war cry that put Spyder's to shame.

Either Trey's threat took hold, or as Leif moved around the room, Spyder began to feel like the creature trapped, but as soon as Trey's call echoed from the walls, the black Yeti went invisible.

Leif looked panicked. He scanned the room quickly, apparently searching for any sign of the huge Yeti. But when he seemed to see nothing, he looked to Trey.

Crossing the room with a limp to help Starr to her feet, Trey turned to a seemingly empty room and released a short shriek. A bluish glow emanated from his fingertips and light bounced into what appeared to be thin air. But it connected to something there and a yelp that sounded suspiciously like Spyder echoed through the cave.

A crackling sound broke the air around them and purple light shot from nowhere toward Trey, grazing his shoulder. He flinched, but didn't fall, and with another bellow, pushed Starr behind him and did something to hurl a good portion of the still-blazing bonfire across the room. Thin air turned roughly into the shape of a Yeti as burning embers from the fire stuck in place on Spyder's invisible figure. The Yetis' male challenge was turning more serious by the second -- and from the looks of it, definitely more deadly.

Ron, Hermione, and Leif had been all but frozen in place as they witnessed what was taking place. But Leif was the one to take action first. Seeming to feel there were no other options, Leif swung around in one swift move, scooping Ron and Hermione together with one long arm. Apparently unwilling to leave Trey and Starr completely alone with the rampaging Spyder, he ushered the young wizard and witch closer to the door, and all but bowled them out together through the entrance into the forest beyond. Leif then disappeared deeper into the cave as a Yeti yell rang out through the door in the rock wall.

"Bloody hell!" Ron complained, trying to untangle himself from both Hermione and the tall, prickly brush they had been thrown into at great speed. "That was close! But did he have to push so hard? You all right?" He managed to stand, rubbed momentarily at a nasty scrape on his arm, and reached a hand down to help Hermione up.

"Well, he wanted to get us out of there safely -- likely doesn't know his own strength yet --" Hermione began to say as she rolled to one side, sat up to grab Ron's extended hand, and started to push off the ground with the other. But her arm gave way and she fell back with a wail.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked worriedly, lowering her back to the ground and kneeling beside her. "What happened?"

"I -- I'm not sure," she answered. "It just hurts." She tried to lift her arm to look at it, but it wouldn't budge. Wincing in pain, she looked as if she was trying to locate where the worst of the pain was in her body. Her fingers on the hand of the injured arm wriggled slowly, but Ron could tell it was ever so painful. "My elbow -- I think it's my elbow."

Wanting to help, but afraid to touch her and cause her more pain, Ron reached toward her, then withdrew his hand. "Do you think it's broken?"

Hermione reached up with her good hand and felt from her shoulder down past her elbow by herself. "The bones seem to be in one piece, but-- oh --" She suddenly flinched and drew in air between her teeth. "Here-- the socket is so much farther away from where my bone should fit in --- I think it's dislocated. My forearm is out of the elbow socket, that's all -- I don't think it's broken."

"That's _all?"_ Ron said, swallowing and staring at the sunken place in her skin where the swell of her forearm should have met her bicep. "So -- what can I do?"

"You have your wand, don't you?" she asked. 

"Sure, it's right--" Ron looked down, then reached to his back pocket. "Damn! I had it! When that Yeti kid pushed us out of the door, I was still holding it." He looked back toward the entrance to the cave. "Bugger, and it's bloody dark out here -- I must have dropped it when we were tumbling. Stay put --I'll be right back."

Squinting in the very faint moonlight, Ron started retracing their path from the doorway. Luckily, the wand was only a few steps away. But just as he reached down to pick it up, a horrifying Yeti yell came from somewhere just inside the cave, and an answering call came from somewhere close behind them in the forest. He rushed back to Hermione's side.

"All right -- I've got it," Ron said, kneeling again. "But I don't think we have time to do anything about it here. It sounds like things aren't getting any better inside and there are others real close out here who are just as peeved. Do you think you can walk?"

"I think so," she said. "If I can hold this arm up with the other so it's not pulling the muscles so hard."

Sympathetic pains shot through Ron's arm from shoulder to wrist as he watched her move slowly and with great effort. Seeing the dark line of her wand where it had been lying on the ground next to her, he made sure that she saw him pick it up and stick it into his back pocket. He was afraid to ask, but it was their only choice. "Is there a chance we can get through the gate to the camp by now?"

Hermione sighed and looked up at him in great seriousness. "Yes, but -- only a chance, if someone happens to be going in or out and we can get by them somehow."

"That's better than sitting here doing nothing. All right then, up you go." Reaching his arm around her waist, Ron gently lifted, waiting a few seconds when she had to help the pain by clamping her dislocated right arm to her side with her left. Once she was standing, he performed the "Point Me" spell with his other hand and they set off.

The forest was full of threatening noises. Yeti shrieks and howls rang through the night; the cracking of large branches in the distance and pounding footsteps could be heard from time to time. They avoided the picnic table because they heard voices there -- and even though they knew they might have to surrender themselves to stay alive, they weren't yet ready to turn themselves over to the mercy of Voyde's men. Even the sudden scurrying of some small animal in the brush next to them was enough to set their hearts pounding. But by far the worst moment was when Ron felt his heart sink at the sight of the habitat's entrance.

The flood lamps were blazing, illuminating everything around the fences and the buildings, all the way to the edge of the brush. There was no one to be seen, but huge, thick, doubled and tripled chains surrounded the sturdy steel fence posts, holding the gates tightly locked.

"...And the dogs..." Hermione sighed despondently.

Sure enough, from time to time a dog or three would go racing by outside the fence line, presumably to the point they heard something last. One even stopped to pace just on the other side of the gate. It was easy to tell the animals were excited and on task, their eyes bright and watchful, tongues hanging as they stared into the forest or loped eagerly between the fences.

"I thought you'd made friends with them," Ron said, watching the animals warily.

"Well, they're more likely to recognize me and be friendly if I have biscuits, like I take to the kennels. That's why I brought the sack of them, but--"

He already saw where this was going. "But Ron left the biscuits in the cave."

"Well...yes," Hermione admitted. "Not that you had much choice. But they're guard dogs, Ron. Without the biscuits, and because they've been trained to attack anything that comes out of the forest or tries to get out of that gate besides the handlers, I'm not sure how it would go. It's different because they're on watch now, too -- they're working."

"Actually, at this point, it probably doesn't much matter anyway," Ron said dejectedly. "Because I don't see any way we're going out that gate. No doubt there are wards set up as well?"

Hermione nodded.

"Good of them to be so thorough," Ron said dryly. "Think we can hold out until morning without being torn apart by rioting Yeti?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. They've already started on me," she sniffed, making a lame joke as she carefully moved her arm against her side.

Ron smiled at her bravado, wincing again at the sunken and pointless elbow socket. "Well, at least we may have time to fix that while we're waiting--" he said, "--assuming you trust me to try."

Hermione started to smile at him when they both jumped at the sound of loud crashing through the trees high above their hiding place.

Ron quickly but gently tried to push Hermione farther behind the small bush where they hid, shielding what could be still be seen of her with his own body. They both felt a heavy body shake the ground upon landing nearby, but they heard and saw nothing immediately. Sensing a presence that couldn't be seen, Ron soon heard a noise he couldn't decipher right away.

"Do you hear that?" he whispered.

"Yes," Hermione whispered back. "It sounds like – "

Ron turned to look into her eyes as she looked into his. " – Something big crunching on the bones of something smaller again – you _sure_ they aren't all killers?"

Bushes began to thrash around nearby, though they could still only hear rather than see whatever it was that moved closer and closer to them. Ron raised his wand once more, though he had only a vague idea where to point it.

As the sound was nearly upon them, a hazy purple halo appeared, but it was not far enough above the ground for a full-grown Yeti. Soon a familiar shadowy gray creature appeared inside the halo. Ron felt a gentle push from behind and he moved out of the way for Hermione to step by.

"Leif! You gave us such a fright – again!" Hermione said.

"Yeah," Ron said irritably. "What is it with this –this—Yeti?"

Leif carried in one fist the sack of dog biscuits, and in the other fist two or three of the hard, crunchy tidbits that he popped into his mouth from time to time. Obviously, that was the sound they had heard.

"How did you get away?" Hermione asked him. "Are you all right?"

Ron was annoyed that she'd care so much. "He's better off than you are."

Hermione shot a glare at Ron, then looked back at Leif for his answer. Leif threw the few remaining biscuits from one fist into his mouth and dropped the sack from the other. He first pointed at himself and then indicated someone or something running by moving his fingers on the opposite palm.

Hermione smiled at his attempt to communicate his answer and by reflex lifted her arm to signal "okay". The movement caused her to hiss in pain. Ron rushed to her side on impulse, reaching around her to cradle her injured arm with his own and relieve the overly-stretched muscles. "Let's get that fixed, now that we know it's only this bloke. I can't stand it with you hurting like that any more."

Hermione tried to smile through her watery lashes as the pain brought tears. "Me either."

But just as Ron reached for his wand, Leif stepped closer and gently pointed to Hermione's elbow. He then laced his fingers together and held them up to show her, obviously thinking that she ought to know that meant something significant.

First shaking her head at Leif in confusion, Hermione carefully watched Leif point to her elbow again. Obviously, he wanted to do something about the dislocation.

"Hey!" Ron said indignantly, catching on and facing the young Yeti. "Nothing doing – _Leif!_ Don't you worry --I'll take care of her—er…it." He felt his face going hot for a number of reasons.

The Yeti seemed to recognize his own spoken name, but didn't appear to like or trust the looks of Ron's intentions when he stepped in front of Hermione.

"Ron, I think it's all right," Hermione said gently. "I think he knows he might have caused it when he pushed us – and he only wants to help."

"_Help?"_ Ron protested, turning his back to Leif. "Look at the size of his hands! What if he crushes every bone in your arm? We already know the bloke doesn't know his own strength. I'm pretty sure I can fix a dislocated elbow, but I'm not a mediwizard, Hermione. Mending bone crushings is beyond me."

"Oh, don't be silly," Hermione said. "He'll do nothing of the sort."

"Then I can't watch this," Ron said, stepping aside and turning away in irritation. But against his own will, he couldn't keep from looking and peeked back over his shoulder.

Leif stepped closer to Hermione until his belly fur was nearly touching her limp arm. Timidly and carefully, the Yeti reached under the non-functioning elbow and slowly lifted it, which caused Hermione to bite her lip in pain. Ron was about to draw his wand and interrupt when he saw a faint gold glow about the Yeti's fingers as they supported Hermione's arm. The creature first gently rolled her hand into a fist and pushed in slightly on her knuckles with his other huge hand to span the disconnected space between her forearm bone and her elbow joint, then he held it in position long enough to interlace his fingers around the injury. The glow around his hands intensified.

"You all right, Hermione?" Ron questioned tensely, forgetting he wasn't supposed to be watching and staring where her elbow was surrounded in light.

"I'm fine," Hermione said, working hard to smile up at Leif. She seemed to be worried that the Yeti was concerned about what she and Ron were saying. "It just feels warm. And the pain's starting to go away. I had no idea they could do this…"

"Yeah, I'll bet you didn't," Ron said in disgust. "Figures he'd be dying to show you."

"He's trying to help, Ron," Hermione insisted. As Leif opened his clasped hands from around Hermione's arm and moved away, she flexed her arm several times to try the newly healed elbow. "It's a bit stiff, but back in place and much, much better. Thank you, Leif."

Ron grumbled something he didn't want her to hear under his breath and turned away to consider again the very well-locked gate.

Once Leif had shyly turned away from Hermione after healing her arm, he seemed to sense Ron's concern about the gate. The young Yeti leaned down to pick up the sack of dog biscuits and moved it toward Hermione, but it was Ron who intervened and snatched it from him. Next, Leif moved in front of them and motioned for them to return to the bushes.

Ron scowled. "_Now_ what's he up to?"

"I think –" Hermione said distractedly, watching Leif apparently searching for something on the ground. A slow grin started to appear on her face. "I think he's going to try and help get us into camp – he knows that's the only place we can be safe."

"Great," Ron said dryly and turned to follow her back into the taller foliage.

As they watched from their vantage point in the bushes, now hidden from sight of the clearing, Leif reappeared carrying a boulder the size of a large cauldron.

"I don't even want to know what he's going to do with that," Ron said.

"Oh, I think you do," Hermione said, grinning and reaching out of the brush with her good arm to give Leif a thumbs-up when he checked to make certain the two of them were hidden. "At least it'll be a start, which is all he can give us. Here we go."

In awe, Ron and Hermione watched as Leif curled one huge arm partway around the enormous rock at his side and swung the thing behind him. With first a deep grunt, then a loud yell, he thrust his great arm forward and launched the boulder at the gate, deftly landing it on the padlock and the stacks of looped chains. Blue and orange light with vivid white sparks flashed from the fence and a loud humming vibrated the air around them. Even the boulder was thrown back a few feet before it dropped straight to the ground.

"Whoa…" Ron breathed. "Nice toss."

The chains and the padlock on the gates were still intact, but the impact of the rock had moved one side of the gate such that there was space enough for a lean human to slip through the opening.

Moments later, a man's shout rang out from somewhere in the forest at their backs and heavy footsteps could be heard pounding their way closer. Leif raised a hand in silent salute to Ron and Hermione just seconds before the clearing became empty save for a glowing purple halo collar near the edge.

Two handlers appeared from the brush, first shining their lanterns in all directions once they reached the clearing, then setting them down once they realized the light from the flood lamps was so bright. But even with the illumination of the lamps, it was apparent they could see nothing now that even the purple halo had vanished.

"Over there!" one of the men cried out, pointing to the boulder just below the still-sparking fence.

Four or five dogs, alerted by the crackling and sparking of the violated wards, now barked and snapped at the gate, looking as if they'd be just as happy to rip a handler to shreds as any escaping Yeti.

"Some one of 'em knocked that gate for a loop, the filthy beasts," the other handler said. "Easy to see why Voyde and them wants those animals, what with how strong the bastards are, but there'll be nothin' to save us if they get through to the camp and turn on us."

"Shut yer mouths, yeh slobberin' mutts!" The dogs' barking volume had grown as the handler approached the gate and quieted very little in spite of the man's orders.

"That one's Ulav," Hermione whispered. "I think."

Ulav began to reach for the padlock and chains, then stopped in mid-motion, reaching instead for the wand in his front pocket. Pointing and swinging the wand before him in an arc that could magically cover some twenty feet of the fence and the gate, he mumbled a spell that sounded to Ron vaguely like the one he had learned to reverse the wards. The man then reached out to snatch up the padlock and examine it, with no adverse reactions from touching the metal.

The second handler walked to join Ulav, but was still visually scouring the area. "Where do you reckon the great furball is now? And which one you think –"

Ripping through the air above their heads, a crackling sound interrupted the handler before some unseen force jarred the gate once more. Oddly enough, it seemed as if the sound had begun in one of the tallest trees above and behind Ron and Hermione, though when they looked up there was nothing but dark night above.

Suddenly, a bright fireball swung into the air, arced over their heads and plummeted earthward into the forest nearby.

A terrifying, yet high-pitched Yeti yell smothered the sounds of the barking and snapping dogs just after the fireball landed with a loud, ground-shaking thud and an explosion lit up the sky nearby. Horrifying animal shrieks and a sound so gruesome it turned Ron's stomach quickly followed.

The handlers took only a moment to decide what to do, mumbling something to one another about, "It'll hold – the animals are too big to get through -- the dogs'll slow 'em down" as they snatched up their lanterns, readied their wands, and jogged by on the path next to the two hidden friends.

As the sounds of Yetis, handlers, and magical explosions retreated deeper into the forest, Ron began to feel as if he could relax a bit. _Might as well get comfortable,_ he thought, _we're likely to be here for a good long while – at least until those dogs get distracted elsewhere…_

"Bring the biscuit sack, Ron," Hermione said and made a move toward crawling from their leafy hideout.

Ron snorted, but reached a hand to her shoulder just in case. "You can't mean you're thinking of going through there?"

"You have a better idea?" Shoving past Ron's hand, she pushed her head from the brush, and turned from side to side to check for anyone coming.

Ron grimaced and grabbed for the biscuit sack. He followed her into the clearing, blinking at the sudden intensity of the bright flood lamps. "Now I'm actually sorry my eyes are adjusting to the light," he said, staring at the frothing jaws attached to dogs jumping at the fence. "They may be smaller than Fluffy, but together they've got more heads than he had. And more teeth. And they're just as angry...maybe more..."

"Oh, now don't tell me you're afraid of a few little doggies..." Hermione taunted.

Ron looked at her in shock. "Are you mad? Those don't look like idle threats they're making."

Hermione had stopped about ten meters short of the fence to wait for Ron to catch up; they both stood watching the dogs for a moment.

"They don't like wizards much, do they?" Ron asked quietly.

"Don't trust them and have been hurt by them a lot, more like it," Hermione answered.

"Hold that bag in your right hand and walk with me. Use the other arm to stay close. It's like it was with Starr – you want them to know you're with me."

Ron was a bit confounded. She didn't seem afraid in the slightest – maybe she truly did believe the dogs would calm once she got closer. He moved up to stand shoulder to shoulder with her.

"Can you help protect my arm a bit?" Hermione asked. "In case they jump up."

"Oh-- oh yeah, of course," Ron said, feeling stupid for forgetting and moving to the other side of her. "You know, I'm not certain that protecting your arm will help much in the end."

Hermione shook her head at him in exasperation and stepped off. "They're still not sure. They've never seen me coming from here before – and they must be upwind."

Eight meters. Five meters…

The largest black dog in the middle of the pack dropped his forequarters from the fence to the ground. As he stared, he stopped his barking aside from one last little furtive yip, then his whole demeanor changed. Tongue suddenly lolling instead of baring his teeth, his flanks began to swing from side to side so violently to wag his stub of a tail that they moved his whole body.

"Bruno?" Hermione said quietly. "There's a good boy."

Ron's jaw dropped. "Is that the--?"

"Certainly is," Hermione interrupted. "Give me a biscuit." Holding the proffered biscuit out before her with her better arm as they slowly approached, Hermione's soothing tone and Bruno's cue soon caused the other dogs to calm as well. In the course of a few minutes, the entire group had been reduced to a whining, panting, and wagging pack. "A bit different, no? Think we can make it past them now?"

Moving slowly beside her, Ron was in awe. "How _did_ you do that? I know you didn't do any magic."

"Maybe it's not officially magic, but I'd say a little kindness could be pretty magical, wouldn't you?"

They had reached the dogs now. Bruno was pawing at the opening in the gate, trying to stick both nose and one leg through to reach his approaching friend.

Several minutes and a sackful of dog biscuits later, Ron and Hermione had made it to the far side of the dog run, apparently as yet unnoticed by anyone human. Hermione's suspicion that the large door to usher the Yeti into the lab might be un-spell-locked at the moment had proven correct, so they had no problem slipping through and leaving their now well-fed canine friends behind.

Once inside the lab building, the lack of any light except that coming from the office room down the hall encouraged the two of them to move down the long hallway and toward the front entrance to the camp. They did have to duck quickly into one of the training rooms when they saw Dr. Null heading down the hall toward the habitat with one of the handlers, but once the two men passed, the camp was virtually empty all the way back to Hermione's cabin.


	23. Surprise! Surprise!

_A/N: Loads of thanks and excessive gushing are to be heaped upon my wonderful betas **Christina Teresa** and **Seakays**, as always. _

_Real life just keeps on being, well...real... which at times means real ugly, especially time- and energy-wise. But we keep plugging along. Also many thanks to recent reviewers mikebuhrow, Uncle Buck, Mist, Ender, and Dispatch - I really appreciate your kind comments. Hope you enjoy this one! NZ_

**Chapter 23 **

**Surprise! Surprise!**

_**Chapter 22 Summary**: It turns out that what Starr, Ron, and Hermione hear entering Trey and Starr's cave is Leif, the young Yeti who Hermione had worked with in the lab. Ron becomes rather irritated at Leif's delight in finding Hermione in his territory, but they soon find that Starr is trying to hide a painted all in the cave from them. Through picture language with Starr and Leif, Hermione realizes this may be what the handlers have been doing inside the caves, but she doesn't understand why – especially when a picture message there decodes into something about killing horses. After all, she's never seen one at Trapperton. Starr is trying to tell Hermione something else in pantomime when Spyder storms into the cave, killing and eating a live opossum in front of them. Spyder makes an attempt to harm Ron and Hermione, but after first defending Hermione alongside Ron, Leif pushes both Hermione and Ron from the cave to protect them. Hermione's elbow is dislocated in the process, but there is unrest in the night forest, so the two friends head for the gates into camp anyway. While Ron and Hermione are hiding and trying to decide what to do about the dogs on guard, Leif appears again, having evaded Spyder once more. Leif uses Yeti healing to repair Hermione's elbow, then hurls a boulder at the padlocked and warded gates to jar them open a little. Two handlers appear to check the security of the gates, but they're distracted by more pressing Yeti matters in the forest. Using the dog biscuits and soft words from Hermione, she and Ron finally get past the dogs and succeed in making it back to her cabin._

_>>>ES_

Alastor Moody fell with a pflump! into the worn and sagging overstuffed chair. Cautiously, he pulled the threadbare ottoman toward him and lifted his bad leg – minus the wooden 'peg' -- onto it. As he finally relaxed a bit, the throbbing set in and he let out a low moan, knowing no one was around to hear aside from Wilhemina.

The old hound with the large pouches dangling beneath her sad, puffy eyes walked slowly to the aged Auror and laid her head on the man's elevated leg.

"Ah, Wilhemina, always a fine, faithful lass you are," Moody said, stroking the dog's head. "Pains me a good lot tonight, it does. I'll be off to Diagon Alley tomorrow for some more ingredients for that Ghostlimb Potion. But in the meantime, reckon the Firewhiskey'll have to dull the throbbin' instead."

Moody spent some time sitting there, lifting the bottle to his lips, taking long, deep swigs and then cradling it in his lap again. He wasn't sure how long it had been before he started to hear the voice. But for one of the few times in his life, he was actually hoping the damned thing _was_ all in his head.

"Alastor?...Alastor?" came a thin, older woman's voice from the direction of the hearth.

Squinting his unfocused eyes at the firelight flickering on the wall next to him, he could tell it did have a decidedly greenish cast to it, unlike the orange-red reflections shed by the oak log fire alone. There was a good chance someone really was in the fireplace wanting to speak to him. He knew he would have to lower his leg and walk closer to the hearth for them to hear his reply, but the simple thought of the pain alone made him dread the task. His eyelids heavy with the effects of Firewhiskey, they fell closed, and sleep nearly took him before the voice came back.

"Alastor!" the voice scolded. "I know you're there – Miss Tonks told me she'd left you on the front stoop in pain with that leg, and that she watched you head inside to put it up not an hour ago!"

Arabella Figg. That's who that screech belonged to. Usually the woman wasn't so insistent since she so often was in doubt of her own mental faculties. _She must really have something to say. Bugger. _

Taking a deep breath and gritting his teeth in anticipation, Moody lowered his partial leg from the ottoman and felt the pain roll downhill into his knee. Damn. Whatever this woman wanted, it had better be good.

"Harry Potter, then! Does that mean anything to you, Alastor? This is about the boy!"

_Harry!_

Moody grabbed for his walking stick, adrenaline beginning to clear his mind slightly. Somehow he managed to get himself across the room to the hearth.

"Arabella?" he croaked. "What's the problem?" He leaned what weight he could on the walking stick, which swayed perilously back and forth as his body shifted, pain and alcohol affecting his ability to balance properly.

"Well, I'm not entirely certain there _is_ a problem—" the woman started.

Moody rolled his eyes.

"But I couldn't reach Albus—off investigating some _cave,_ Minerva said— she was busy with Hogwarts admissions and I thought someone ought to know," she continued. "Harry was here today when Mundungus and I were on watch – he was planning on helping with the cats, he said. Or-- was it that he was watering the garden?" Mrs. Figg's voice trailed off as she drifted off into her own confusion.

"Is that the gist of the problem then, Arabella? Can't remember why Harry was at your house?" Moody said gruffly.

"Oh no...no...You see, he _was_ here, then he was gone. I went to search for him and for the shortest bit of time we couldn't find him at all—"

"You and Dung?" Moody questioned.

"Well, once I eventually found Mundungus, he was glad to help," she clarified. "So, when we couldn't find him here, we went to the Dursleys to see if he'd returned there. They told us Harry was ill –vomiting, as it were– and had retired to his room."

"Did you see him then?" Moody asked, his head beginning to ache with the effort of focusing his eyes.

"No, we didn't," Mrs. Figg said. "You know those people, not very inclined to help us. They didn't want to let us in their house or tell us what time all this had happened. But they said they could, er, hear him inside his room. We didn't insist. Was that all right?"

"Can't say I wouldn't have felt better if you'd actually seen him, Arabella, but if the Muggles could hear him in there, we're probably in the clear." Even through his alcoholic haze, Moody could tell that Mrs. Figg was simply having an attack of the guilts and sought to relieve it by fire-talking to him. Chances are everything was as it appeared and all was fine, since the Muggles claimed they could hear Harry– certainly they had nothing to gain by stating otherwise and none of the usual alarms had been tripped. "Much indebted to you, Arabella, for letting us know. Tonks and I'll check on him when we're on guard tomorrow."

The relief in her voice was obvious. "Thank you, Alastor. Sorry to bother you so late." Then her head disappeared.

_Crazy old bat,_ Moody thought. _Better talk to Dumbledore about finding her some other duty for her besides being on watch for Harry._ Then he stumbled back to his saggy chair, plunked his throbbing leg back on the ottoman, and listened to his old dog snore but for a moment before he drifted off to sleep himself.

_>>>ES_

They'd holed up in Hermione's cabin after returning from the habitat, trying to calm themselves with the simple comfort of being together and talking quietly about their summer apart.

While it was difficult to ignore the occasional Yeti yells, shouts, and barking coming from the direction of the habitat, Hermione began to tell Ron what had been happening at Trapperton in far more detail than she had ever included in her letters. By the time she'd stopped talking, Ron was stretched out on the floor, his head held up on one arm bent at the elbow, while Hermione sat cross-legged in front of him.

After that, and because there was still too much commotion going on outside for them to relax, Ron described how he'd met Leo, come to work in the Shipping Department at the Ministry, and how he'd obtained all of the information he'd found in the offices, both restricted and otherwise. This time he took a deep breath and held nothing back when he told her – obviously, leaving out some little bit of information could mean the difference between life and death in a place like this—though he'd had no idea the potential for danger was so great here even _without_ the presence of someone like Umbridge He had so deeply sensed Hermione was in danger – only to find out she truly was. _At least she won't need to worry about it much longer…_he thought.

Though he had to stifle a yawn beforehand, Ron swung his long legs around into a sitting position, then pushed up to stand. "So what time do you reckon it is now?" he asked, hitching up his jeans before walking away and bending over to pick up one of the trainers he'd kicked off across the room earlier.

Hermione watched what he was doing with curiosity. "I don't know. Eleven…eleven-thirty, maybe. Why?"

_Why is she looking at me like that?_ he thought. _Surely she hasn't forgotten._ "Because,"he snorted, "it's nearly time to go."

"Go?"

"Hermione, everyone in the _world_ knows you're smarter than that. Quit taking the mickey. Come on. Get your things and let's go," he said impatiently, collecting the other shoe and taking the few steps to the desk chair to put it on. He truly did feel badly for the Yeti and their predicament– and Ron knew he could never willingly let any creature starve—but he also knew that between the two of them, they had enough information that they could alert _someone_. "You've got your evidence now, it's time to take it home. We'll go to the Ministry—or the Order -- once we get a bit of rest. Remember—midnight tonight? We agreed?"

The sheer force of her indignation alone seemed to lift her from the floor. _"I_ never agreed to anything," she said, shaking her head. "You were the one who came up with the brilliant idea of leaving tonight. I just didn't…say anything."

"Come on, there's brave and noble, then there's stupid," Ron said, trying, and not managing very well, to stay calm. "After what happened out there tonight, don't you see you could just as easily get killed here by those prat handlers or those Yeti you love, even without any squat little flesh-carving Ministry officials coming to take revenge?"

"Look who's talking," Hermione replied, obviously getting a bit edgy herself. "Flying into a Ministry compound you _knew_ would be warded in the middle of the night—"

"Yeah – to get _you!"_ Ron interrupted hotly. "At least I had a damned good reason for what I did!"

The emotion behind that statement slowed Hermione down – not for long, but her voice was quieter when she spoke. "And so do I, Ron. Nothing's really changed. We know what they did in the caves now, assuming it wasn't just Trey and Starr's. But we can hardly take those paintings with us as the hard evidence any of those Ministry people would demand. Not to mention we don't know why they did it or what it means."

Ron tried to calm himself to match her mood, but the adrenaline was still pumping too hard. "Well – all right then--I'm going. I said I'd give you until tonight and I have—even went with you out there to try and find out whatever more we could…"

"I know," Hermione said meekly. "Thank you."

Ron started stomping about the room, looking for his jacket. He knew he ought to leave the issue alone, but the frustration just wouldn't go away. "Reckon that's it. We'll just leave you here then. I'm sending Pig to find Harry wherever he is and tell him not to come –and –and -- I'm going!"

But she wasn't budging and Ron had a feeling it was already over. And she was still so maddeningly calm about it…

"All right. You do what you have to do."

Ron shook his head. "Damn it, Hermione! _You have to come with me!"_

As soon as the words burst out of his mouth, he regretted them. _Nice one, Weasley. You blithering idiot! Since when did ordering Hermione Granger around do you even the slightest bit of good? Look at her—she's not going anywhere._

"Ron -- this is me," she said too damned reasonably. "How often have I ever listened to anyone who told me precisely what I can or can't do?"

"Maybe it should start when someone cares more about keeping you safe than you care yourself!"

Ron stormed to the bureau, where he'd wrapped a part of the ignition assembly in a scarf while they'd been gone from Hermione's quarters (at least, he thought, if someone were to break in and come across the motorbike, they wouldn't be able to make it run). The scarf dropping to the floor in his haste, he picked it up and pitched it back on the bureau top, alarming Pig into frantic flight around the room. Then the motorbike part slipped through his fingers and gave him something more to curse about.

_Damn, this hero business really blows._

One thing he had discovered over the summer was that working on the motorbike had something of a calming effect on him and he was going to have to calm down, if only to get himself out of here. Walking to the motorcycle, Ron absorbed himself in checking everything to make certain it was once again ready for flight. He knew it was not only essential, but the only way he might find himself better able to think clearly and reason beyond the anger. Hermione was ignoring him now – he was aware she was simply leaving him alone to let off steam. She wasn't always in the frame of mind to be able to do that when they argued, but tonight, thankfully, she was.

Finally, he had checked everything he could three times over and he glanced over to the bed, where Hermione had propped herself up against the headboard and involved herself in a book.

Ron stood from his squatting position and sauntered disgustedly across the room.

"If only it was a rule!" he said, throwing himself into the desk chair and staring into his lap. "Then you'd follow it and come with me!"

More silence.

Finally she spoke softly, as if she didn't want to open another can of worms. "It's getting late – they may be leaving the habitat soon since it's a bit quieter. Are you --?"

"Shut it, Hermione," he groused.

Though he didn't turn to see her face, and didn't especially want to at that moment, he could hear the note of hope in her voice. Very little had warmed his heart this night, but the feeling that she wanted what she was about to get did encourage him a little.

"Then you're --?"

"No, of course not," he said sulkily, kicking at the desk underneath.

As he sat still in the silent and dim room for a number of long minutes, Ron found himself winding down. The waning adrenaline and the tension in his muscles were giving way to relaxation after the stress of the habitat visit and his bickering with her. He didn't want to fall asleep in the chair, but neither did he want to face her when it seemed like he'd so easily given in, either. It was a bit stuffy in the room, too, but he could make it a few more minutes…

Soon he heard her crawl down from the bed. She padded across the room behind him, cooed something soothing to Pig (who had finally settled back onto the bureau), and busied herself with doing something there. Ron heard a goblet clink and a mumbled spell.

He still stared into his lap, his head down—in fact, only his eyes shifted when he saw movement on his right. But he still refused to look at her. She'd leaned close to set a dinner goblet down in front of him. It was full of pumpkin juice; condensation beaded on the sides of the glass.

"It's from the dinner pitcher, but I Spell-chilled it," she said calmly.

He grunted a thank you, but still didn't move – didn't feel like he _could_ move. She waited behind him near his right shoulder. She wasn't touching him, but he could feel her there. He could _always_ feel when she was that close, in his dreams or wide awake; his senses wouldn't let him ignore her – ever.

"I—" he heard her start softly and with some difficulty, then pause before starting again. "I know you came to get me because you were worried. Thank you for coming --and for staying."

Ron snorted softly. At least in his dreams she was grateful. But even there she didn't need him. "Yeah – but really, what good am I? You have your bloody Yetis to heal you if need be."

She paused again before he heard her voice low and soft. "Yes, Leif did put my elbow back in position and it doesn't hurt as much, that's true."

He felt her body heat shift closer until the butterflies in his stomach told him she was leaning against his shoulder.

_Could she be…? _

_Nah, I must be dreaming…_

Ron had learned that his other senses worked overtime with his eyes closed and he fully intended to make the best of that. Tingles raced down his right arm as one long strand of her bushy hair slid down it when she leaned closer. His face was hot and the side of his body felt surrounded by her as she bent down to speak into his ear.

"But there are other things that hurt, you know—things that hurt much worse," she said. "Being here by myself made me remember just how much it hurts to be that lonely—and it hurts so badly." It was silent for a moment, then... _"You_ healed that."

The tone of her voice told him she meant it. He felt her lips on his cheek-- soft and warm and trembling, and just the slightest bit damp.

He smiled to himself. This was his favorite part of the dream.

Any moment now, she would move and he could…

_What? No response?_

Any moment now, she would move away from his cheek and touch her lips to his, and time would mean nothing…

_She's taking so long…_

Any moment now, she would settle on his lap and they would wrap themselves together in each other's arms, her lips hot and wet on his, and they would be so totally absorbed in one another that nothing else in the world would matter…

The anticipation was killing him…

_She knew what to do on any other night, why was she so damned slow tonight? _

_Hold on -- **you** know what to do, Weasley! What are **you **waiting for?_

Gently reaching one hand behind her head into that gloriously soft and frothy hair, Ron answered his own question. Part by instinct, part by reflex and mostly because there was not a flicker of willpower left in him to fight what he felt for her any longer, he pulled and turned his face to hers, his mouth to her lips, and he laid his feelings for her there. He felt her warmth, her softness, the delicious flavor of her that was every bit as luscious in this dream as in any other before it, if not more so. The summer dreams were welcome to stay forever… long moonlit nights imagining what perfection it would be to kiss Hermione… for only a dream could deliver a feeling this perfect…

She began to pull away a little but the adrenaline from some earlier bit of stupidity he couldn't remember was still pumping in his veins. It joined with the feelings her kiss was causing in him and it made him hungrier somehow. Not only did he pull her closer to him, but he kissed her more intensely. He'd kissed her this hard in the dreams before – and she'd only liked it.

Hermione made a wonderful little noise in her throat and he felt a twinge in his middle – she liked it this time, too Yet something was odd about that noise. His mind ordered her to come sit in his lap in this dream, too. She didn't move.

Then, far away, a metal gate clanged and a dog barked.

Ron's eyes flew open. _Gates? …And **dogs?**_

Oh, great mother of Merlin. He was kissing Hermione for...

_**Real?** _

Ron pulled away, gasping at his own boldness; his hands dropped as if she were made of hot coals. In one swift move, he'd jumped up from the chair and knocked it on its side. How he wished he'd been under it, pushed through the floor to crawl away and hide. For some minutes, his tongue was too much in shock for coherence. "I…I…"

He looked down at himself in alarm. _Had she cast "Inflamare!"? _Because he certainly felt as if he was burning up. He couldn't look at her – he _couldn't!_

"I…I…_that!"_ he spat out as he stared at the floor. _Damn, Weasley! Sound like you own a brain, you git! _"Oh, Hermione, I didn't mean that! I'm _sorry!_ I thought I'd fallen asleep, I mean I thought I was dreaming and—and—"

She stood looking at him blankly, after scrambling to regain her balance and stand straight once he'd released her head.

"I mean, especially after the mates thing--Tod—and—" he flung his arm in the general direction of the bed, but he couldn't look at that either.

Hermione looked as if the last few minutes had completely overwhelmed her. "You... thought you were...asleep?" she asked in confusion.

He finally let his eyes dart to hers for a moment before he nodded hopefully. But again, he didn't get the response he was expecting.

"After all this time you finally do something amazing like that and then tell me you thought you were _asleep?"_

He'd missed something -- he glanced one more time. There was a very dangerous spark in her eyes, but he wasn't sure how he'd put it there. He'd expected her to be angry from the start, when she wasn't, but now that he'd explained himself to keep her from getting angry, she was..._Please let me understand girls – for five minutes…five minutes! _he prayed._ I'll do **anything!** _

"Well – yes. No!" Ron floundered. " I mean, I didn't know if I was – I just reckoned if someone was being that nice to me that I was asleep – I didn't know it was you!"

Her eyes were narrowing – this couldn't be good. "So someone saying nice things to you wouldn't have been me, then? Is that what you're telling me?"

"No! I mean, yes! It could have been you, but—"

"Oh, _now_ I see – it could have been me, but it wasn't," Hermione said tersely, crossing her arms in front of her. "So you thought you were dreaming and when you turned to kiss this dream girl, you just happened to run into me, but it had nothing to do with me because I would never be that nice. Does that about sum it up?"

_Whoa…_ Too many words at once. Too long of a day. Too many long days in a row. _Think, think. You're getting in deeper, Weasley, start digging—what are you saying…digging? Excavate like a madman, fool! How did this happen? And whatever you say back, it's got to be **right!** Argh, the **pressure!**_

"So – what?" she demanded. "Kneazle got your tongue, then? Well, oddly, mine's fine. Who was it in that tasty little dream, then? That cutesie little Veela-looking third year with the long hair? I've seen you watching how it swings behind her. Or at least you certainly can't ignore _something_ that swings behind her. Or maybe it's someone you've known a while, perhaps? Lavender Brown, maybe? Ever since you won the Cup for Gryffindor, she pulls her shirtfronts lower and hikes her skirts higher the instant she sees you coming. Surely you've noticed. So who was it, Ron? Who?"

All Ron could manage while his brain was on overload was to hold up his hand, trying to stem the flow of white-hot hatred coming his way. "A moment, just …please…"

"We're talking _years_ that a lot of things have been on hold here, Ron—years," she said coldly. "It seems to me you've had a lot of moments and I don't think giving you any more of them is going to help."

"But I wanted it to be you in the dream –" Ron started lamely.

"And yet it wasn't," she finished, "because I would never be that nice. Trust me – if that's what you think, then I won't ever let it happen again, that's for certain." Hermione whipped around and stomped to the side of the bed, grabbing what looked to be a neatly folded set of pajamas from under her pillow; then she headed for the loo.

_Weasley, you've got maybe three seconds here!_ "No! Wait! In the dream it _was_ you—I mean, I was awake and it was you, and it was you I wanted to—"

SLAM!

She was gone and obviously refused to hear anything else. "Kiss-- and when we did, it was brilliant…and amazing…" Why couldn't he have told her that sooner? And he'd never got to tell her that he didn't want her to think he was trying to get her to...well, you know, with the bed, and the kiss and he knew she wasn't like that...Two seconds too late, but it might as well have been a lifetime, and well it could be now, for all he knew… "and now you could give a graphorn's arse…"

Ron turned the chair upright, then slumped into it, his eyes tingling and his body unable to hold itself up any longer. _Why_ hadn't he left like he said he was going to do? Then this would have never happened. Maybe their friendship would have been no different, but at least he wouldn't have made things worse, like this. Why didn't he just take the motorbike now and fly off into the night? Better yet, why didn't he just go fly the thing into the forest and crash it on purpose and give Hermione a break for the rest of her life?

_If nothing else, I'm waiting until she's in bed before I move. Though it's true things have quieted some out there…_

Deep in the throes of trying to decide whether to stay or to go, Ron leaned his head back in the chair and closed his eyes to help relieve the headache nagging at him. The scars on his arms were beginning to sting a bit, too, and he was trying to ignore the pain from both as he heard Hermione rustling around in the bathroom. _Could you have mucked up this hero thing any worse, Weasley? Why do you even—_

Two loud pops broke the relative silence outside, startling Ron to his feet immediately as a lone dog began barking. At the same time, the bathroom door opened and Hermione poked her head out, a stricken look on her face.

"Did you hear that?" she asked tensely.

Both of them looked over to the bureau, where Pig was sleeping soundly with his head beneath his wing. Ron had never owled Harry.

Nothing else needed to be said. They both knew precisely what had happened. Ron dove for his shoes, ignoring her question. But he was certain she never noticed as she disappeared into the bathroom. Mere moments later, Hermione rushed back out in her pajama T-shirt and walking shorts, then sat down on the edge of the bed to rapidly tie on her boots.

Everything they'd just been through tonight was forgotten—at least for now. Harry needed them.

Both Ron and Hermione scooped up their wands and rushed to the door. Ron stopped and turned to her before he twisted the doorknob.

"I'll see if it's clear first. Then I'll start looking for Harry," he said. "Will we need –?"

"Dog biscuits?" she finished for him. "Don't know – I'll go for some first, then find you."

He started to turn back to the door when she grabbed his arm. "Ron?" She seemed to be fighting some angry emotion within herself, but by the end of that moment, was looking up at him with big, worried eyes. "Don't do anything stupid – okay?

"Me?" Ron snorted and looked down at her with the most confident smile he could muster under the circumstances. "Never. Come on."

Oddly enough, the smile lingered on his face as he checked for anyone else out and about in camp in the brightly-lit, again-noisy night.

_So she knows, too. No matter what else happens between us, sometimes we're just so **good** together…_

_>>>ES_

Ron waited until he could see the tail end of Harry's robes slip through the doorway into Hermione's cabin, then he checked for anyone else about. Seeing no one, he quietly slunk his way up the steps and followed his best friends inside. Ron incanted _"Lumos!"_ along with Harry, then waited silently for Hermione to close the door behind him and set the Silencing and Security Spells.

"Bilius?" Harry said, setting Fred's broomstick against the bureau and turning back to them with a smirk on his face. He looked at Ron. "Isn't that your—"

Behind Hermione's back, Ron made an urgent cut-off gesture across his throat to keep Harry from continuing and fervently hoped that Hermione hadn't heard much of their exchange as she moved to the corner and dropped the sack of dog biscuits there.

"What did you say, Harry?" she asked cheerfully.

"Nothing," Harry said slowly, glancing at Ron. "Just mumbling to myself again – long trip alone in the sky at night. I'll have to get used to having other people around to talk to again." He reached around Hermione to accept her brief hug.

"Oh, it's so good to see you, Harry," Hermione said, releasing her friend. "It seems like it's been so long! And it almost makes me forget I'd like to kill you both for even thinking of bringing you here."

"Well, thank you...I think..." Harry said sarcastically, "—And I really appreciate the warm welcome with the huge spotlights and the barking dogs... What more could someone want who's trying to sneak in quietly?" Harry reached up to unclasp his robes, then hung them on the end of Fred's broom; he slipped off his rucksack and left it on the floor as well.

"At least you were flying in on a nice, quiet broomstick," Ron said. "My ride was a bit more—"

_The motorbike!_ Ron thought in a panic. Harry hadn't seen it yet—and it was to be his birthday present! Ron dove for the sheet that had been rolled up into a ball on Hermione's bed. He was well aware that he was risking her wrath by doing so, yet he whipped it from the bed, snapped it fully open, then let it settle over the motorcycle looming in the dark corner.

"Ron!" Hermione said in alarm _(and quite predictably,_ Ron thought). "What are you --? Oh. Good point." She gave Ron a knowing look and moved to adjust the sheet over the front of the great machine.

Harry stood looking from one of his best friends to the other in confusion. "Starting with that stuff already then? You are aware that you two drove me quite mad with that wordless talking thing you did all last year at school?"

"Sorry, Harry," Ron said. "It's just that – oh, what the hell – shall we?" He looked at Hermione inquiringly.

"It's your present to give," Hermione said. "Though I'd wager that if you do wait, it'll be hard to keep him from stumbling over it in a room this size."

"Right, then – let's do it," Ron said.

"Present?" Harry echoed, still sounding confused. "But I've just got here..."

"Some help here please, Hermione?" Ron asked. _"Lumos Maximus!"_

Hermione repeated Ron's spell, they both held their wands high so that the light showered down on the enormous sheet-covered mass, and Harry simply stood there looking lost.

Ron handed him a corner of the sheet. "Happy late birthday, Harry. Just give it a good tug."

Harry, still looking perplexed, took the corner and yanked it hard. The sheet whipped away behind him and fell to the floor, revealing the huge, glinting motorbike.

Harry's jaw fell. He stared. Then he stared some more. Then he looked as if he was about to speak when he worked hard to bring his lower jaw up to meet the upper. But the best he could do was swallow once it got there --and there were still no words.

It had been too long of a wait for someone with no more patience than Ron had. He was getting worried that Harry had recognized the motorbike right away as having belonged to Sirius and that the feelings had overwhelmed him. _Too soon,_ he thought. _You git, Weasley, it's too damned soon._

"Look...Harry, if it's going to be a problem—" Ron started gently.

"No!" Harry forced out. "It's. God, it's –" Then he returned to the silence and the staring, only now he began to move closer, reaching out as if to touch it and make certain it was real.

Ron looked blankly at Hermione, who shrugged.

"Ron – where--?" Harry choked, sliding his fingertips down the new leather seat. And staring some more.

Ron thought quickly. If Harry _hadn't_ realized yet that the motorbike had been Sirius's, perhaps it would be better to ease him into it slowly. "Lots of places, actually – you know, bits and pieces. It's an older model, a bit difficult to locate parts for, but—"

"It's bloody spectacular," Harry said in awe.

Ron registered surprise at Harry's words – he was quite familiar with the 'bloody' vernacular himself, but it sounded so oddly– foreign – coming from his best friend. When he looked over at Hermione, she scowled back accusingly, as if to say, _"Now you've got him saying those vulgar words, too."_

"But where did you ever get the money?" Harry asked, circling and touching more animatedly now, his mind seeming to recover from its initial shock and drowning in a million questions at once. "These things cost a fortune. And how did it get h—" Harry stopped short and looked up.

Ron hadn't anticipated this. Obviously he hadn't driven the motorbike right through the gates and up the welcoming red carpet into the center of camp. And obviously Harry knew he'd got here much too fast to have driven at all.

Harry's jaw had dropped again. The shock had returned, this time apparently accompanied by realization. But this time Harry was staring at Ron.

Ron watched his best friend dig deep inside of himself and draw up the ability to say four somber, meaningful words.

"It flies. Doesn't it?"

Ron's eyes slid nervously to Hermione, who was still holding up her wand for light and watching Harry with concern as she bit her lower lip. Harry's words held at least a thousand times the weight of any normal statement. And they required confirmation. Ron turned back to his best friend, faced him head on, and with a sincere and solemn stare deep into Harry's eyes, Ron slowly nodded.

A fleeting smile danced its way across Harry's face, followed by a look of wonder; next a scowling frown took its turn, leaving in its wake an expression of deep gratitude.

"I don't know where—or how – or what you did to find this, fix it, bring it here, but I can feel it was his," Harry started. "This is, without a doubt and by far, the _best_ ruddy birthday present anyone's ever given me. Thank you, Ron." Harry quietly took the few steps to get to his best friend. They half-embraced, half-shook hands quickly, each clapping the other on the back before Harry stepped back and turned to continue ogling the motorbike.

A great sigh of relief swept over Ron and he could tell by looking at Hermione that she felt the same.

The three friends stayed up much of the night together, talking and sharing the events of their summers. Ron and Hermione filled Harry in on what they felt was happening at Trapperton, then Harry told them all he'd heard while hiding out in the rhododendrons.

"_Some_ of us actually have to get up and work tomorrow— well, actually, later today once the sun's up," Hermione said. "I'm going to have to get at least a few hours sleep so as not to be completely a blithering idiot."

"At least you have a good excuse for being up all night, what with all the noise in this place," Ron said. "You're probably tired, too, Harry. We'll talk more tomorrow—especially about the motorbike."

"Since I won't be here with you tomorrow doing all of that talking, I'm giving you my two cents right now," Hermione said as she sat cross-legged and faced them in their circle on the floor.

Ron knew from her tone of voice precisely what was coming. He glanced sideways at Harry and rolled his eyes, thinking that Hermione was unable to see him. But when he looked back, either she had caught his expression or the slight upward curl at the corner of Harry's mouth, because she scowled at him fiercely before turning back to Harry.

"Harry, you shouldn't be getting involved in this at all. In fact, you shouldn't even be here. I think you should get some sleep tonight, since obviously you're tired from flying, but then tomorrow, as soon as it's dark and we can get you out of here, you need to be on your way back to your aunt's and uncle's house. Dumbledore and the Order will be furious _and_ frantic knowing you're gone—"

"But I don't think they know – if the twins are up to their usual game," Harry said.

Hermione wouldn't give in. "Whether or not they know, it's the principle of the thing. You're there to be protected and who knows what could happen to you here?"

"Oh, so _now_ you're starting to think it's dangerous here, eh?" Ron said. "Because before, you were saying that there was no way Umbridge was coming, so—"

"Oh, shut up, Ron," Hermione interrupted. "You know very well why it's more dangerous for him than for us and don't pretend you don't."

"But now that I've actually made it here," Harry began reasonably, "wouldn't it be more dangerous for me to fly off into the night alone?"

Hermione paused a moment. "Well...take Ron with you. He wants to go anyway, he said. You two have a broomstick and a motorbike between you. Should be fine_. I'll_ be fine."

"Nope," Ron said stubbornly, shaking his head. "Not going. Sorry, Harry."

"Why not?" Hermione asked.

"You're not going – I'm not going," Ron said shortly to her.

Hermione made an exasperated noise and stood.

"If it makes you feel any better, Hermione, I'm not ready to go back. Not yet, anyway," Harry said. "All of that security stuff, they were on me night and day. I was going mad. So what good would it do me or anyone else if I was protected from Voldemort, but gone mad as a coot? Might as well be dead."

"Don't even say that," Hermione said, frowning. "It's not funny, even when you're joking."

"I'll stay and we'll see what we can do about your Yeti if you two won't leave," Harry said. "Sounds like something weird is going on. And it's not my saving people thing, either. These things aren't even human – are they?"

Hermione sighed in frustration, shook her head, and walked down the short hallway to the closet where the blankets and pillows were kept. Ron heard her make a soft whimper as she stretched her recently-repaired elbow to reach for the extra bedding. He stood and strode back to help, lifting the items from the high shelf and carrying them out to the desk, where he set them down. He picked up the one extra pillow so that Hermione could hand Harry a blanket, then leave one for him. Though Ron was reminded then about the mystery of the extra pillow on the floor that morning, he assumed this would not be a great time to bring that up.

Harry stepped away from where he'd been visually inspecting the motorbike again and went to get the blanket Hermione held out to him. He turned, apparently to spread his blanket on the floor, but not before Hermione spoke.

"Wait, Harry – here's your pillow." She turned to Ron and snatched away the pillow he was holding to give to Harry"There are only two pillows and_ he_ doesn't get one. Ron's working on making his dreams just a little less frivolous and enjoyable. Perhaps a nice hard floor for a pillow will help with that." Then she wheeled abruptly to walk into the loo.

Harry stared after her, holding the pillow in front of him. "Erm...wow. Is that just because you won't take me back to my aunt and uncle's?"

Ron picked up his blanket and started to shake it out to spread on the floor. "Probably part of it. But don't worry, mate, it's none of your doing—she was already all hacked off before you got here. I'm quite good at getting myself in trouble without you, you know."

Harry seemed surprised. "So you come to save her and – she's peeved at you?"

Ron sat down on his blanket and pulled off his trainers, throwing them under the desk one at a time. "Long story, really, but yeah. Girls. Go figure." Rolling up his leather jacket for a makeshift pillow, he sat it on his shoulder, then flopped to the floor and was asleep in minutes.

_>>>ES_

"Ron," Harry said groggily. "What are you doing?"

"Shhhh!" Ron hissed, peering out of the narrowest crack he could make in the door opening and still see through it. He heard Harry yawn, rustle around in his blanket on the floor and imagined his best friend was up on one elbow by now, watching the back of him. Turning his head, he saw Harry squinting at him through narrowed, sleepy eyes.

"Okay, she can't hear you now," Ron began. "I'm following Hermione to work. She won't go home – so she's stuck with me tailing her, simple as that. I'm making sure there are no surprises for her in the morning mail. Be back soon. I hope." Ron started through the door, then turned back to Harry. "Oh – better put up the Security and Silencing Spells once I go, just in case – you know them from last night, right? When I come back, I'll knock twice, stop a few seconds, then knock once more."

Out of the corner of his eye as he was drawing the door shut behind him, Ron saw Harry flop back onto his pillow. _Must be nice,_ Ron thought dryly, momentarily rubbing his neck to relieve the kink that had settled there sometime in the night.

It wasn't difficult to find out where all of the excitement was this morning. Ron had barely snuck halfway around the back of the camp before he saw a large group of people exiting the same building where those two lovey-dovey house-elves lived in the back. From his hiding place behind a small shed, he could see that most of the people were large, unkempt-looking men talking loudly and occasionally laughing, but Dr. Voyde and Carl were among them.

Bringing up the rear of the group was Hermione, carrying a stack of loose parchments and walking next to a man with dark brown hair, disheveled lab robes, and brown trousers. The man was waving his hands about as he talked non-stop, apparently to her, and continued on as if nothing had happened when she halted to run back a few steps and retrieve from the dirt a quill that had somehow escaped him. Scurrying to return to her place beside him, Hermione nodded and would occasionally give a one-word response or shuffle the parchments she held_. So that_ _must be the famous Dr. Null,_ Ron thought. _Don't look so much like the Kneazle's pajamas to me, Mr. Brilliance!_

Ron watched as, oddly enough, the entire group walked to the center of the open camp quadrangle and stopped there, still chatting but lowering their voices somewhat.

Dr. Voyde stepped closer to Carl Smeggers and pointed to her wrist.

"Attention!" Carl said loudly. "We have three minutes. And stand back!"

Everyone in the group moved to form a rough circle, except for two of the large men, who continued to talk and laugh. Carl stepped forward, quickly cuffing one of them in the back of the neck, after which they moved aside with everyone else.

Moments later, something began to materialize in the opening the group had made. As the vision became clearer, Ron was surprised to see a house-elf standing behind, and apparently directing, some kind of machine. It wasn't until everything solidified that he realized there really was a human body there somewhere: the wizened little old man whose office Ron had broken into was settled so far down into the _Mobilus _chair that he could barely be seen. (_At least he didn't bring along that hellion for a secretary! _Ron thought.)

Dr. Null stepped forward first and grabbed the old man's hand, shaking it gently. "Dr. Nardstone – Phelix – it's been too long. It is my pleasure – no, my _honor_ -- to welcome you to Trapperton. I trust you'll find our complex more than worthy of all of the generous donations made to us via the Ministry, and find our studies of great value to all of wizardkind."

The old man wheezed something unintelligible from Ron's distance, but from all he could see, even Hermione scowled as if she'd heard nothing.

Ron noticed that Dr. Voyde had had an odd expression on her face from the moment the house-elf and the old man had arrived. She at first acted as if something was missing, her eyes darting everywhere in her concern, until the house-elf handed her some kind of sealed parchment. While Dr. Null was welcoming the Ministry official, Dr. Voyde read the parchment, looked mildly relieved, folded and pocketed it somewhere within her robes and straightened, turning her attention back to their guest.

Dr. Nardstone seemed to have finished with Dr. Null and was swinging his aged, crumpled hand around as if to make some signal to the house-elf to turn the _Mobilus_ chair. Turn him, the elf did while the old man seemed to search every face in the group.

Taking a quick step forward now that she was done with her parchment, Pamela Voyde leaned over and threw her arms around the old man's scrawny neck. "Here I am, Uncle Phelix!" she said cheerfully. "Can't fool you, can I? Welcome to Trapperton! I've missed you so!"

_**Uncle **Phelix?_ Ron thought. _Hermione never told me the geezer's Dr. Voyde's uncle_. _Wonder if she knew?_

One look in Hermione's direction gave him his answer, not to mention what Dr. Null thought of it as well. Both of them stood with concerned, confused, and somewhat flabbergasted expressions on their faces, staring in shock at the surprise family reunion before them. None of the others in the group seemed fazed by it in the slightest.

Dr. Voyde led off toward the housing buildings with Uncle Phelix and the house-elf in tow. As Ron watched the rest of the group break apart and wander away to various areas of the camp, something began to trouble him. Phelix Nardstone was indeed now here in Trapperton, but there was no sign of Dolores Umbridge. Apparently, he'd been wrong – again – and had been duped by misreading signals or putting two and two together to make five. _Some hero you are, Weasley. Coming to save Hermione from the phantom ex-professor._ But he'd been so sure! And so worried... _Oh well, probably nothing to worry about now that we've seen who is – and isn't – coming, at least until Hermione gets the bright idea of heading into the habitat again._

Once the area was clear enough that Ron could be certain no one would see him, he worked his way back through the shadows toward Hermione's cabin and Harry. Hermione had headed off to the lab building with Dr. Null, collecting the random parchments the man dropped as he walked along, so Ron knew she would likely be busy for some time to come.

On his way back, Ron thought about what would have made him feel worse: being right about Umbridge, or being wrong. He knew Hermione would scoff at him now, especially for bringing Harry into it and flying him all this way from his place of protection. He sighed. _What a stupid git you are, Weasley! All that showed up was a house-elf, an old man, and a parchment..._

The scars on his arms began to tingle with all the self-criticism, but he couldn't help it. _Some people just aren't meant to be heroes_, he thought, _and I'm meant to be one of those who aren't._


	24. Hidden in Plain Sight

_**A/N:** In spite of being awash not only in her local rainy season (which is seriously rainy this year), but in epic proportions with Real Life, **Christina Teresa**, my ever-faithful beta, has returned this chapter quite brilliantly beta-read and should be quite soundly thanked. Hopefully, **Seakays** can return to beta as soon as Real Life quits picking on her. (Best wishes for all to go well, **Seakays**!). To my lovely and patient readers – thank you one and all because you are one lovely, patient, and persistent group to have stuck with me this far, this long, and this steadfastly! Special thanks go to reviewers **rgluvr13, scooterrg, Mist,** and **Radish Earrings**, who were kind enough to take their time to review and let me know that they're enjoying and think I'm headed in the right direction. That helps us writers **lots**, you know! Hope you enjoy our final wind-up to the climax! _

_NZ_

**Chapter 24**

**Hidden in Plain Sight**

_**Chapter 23 Summary:**_

_Arabella Figg reports to Alastor Moody that while she and Dung were on duty, they 'lost' Harry for a while, then found he was sick and holed up in his room at the Dursley's._

_Now inside Hermione's quarters, Ron assumes the plan is still on for him and Hermione to leave for home at midnight, while Hermione has no intention of going. Ron says he's leaving anyway, but in the end realizes he can't do it. While he sulks, Hermione tells him it was him who healed the extreme loneliness she felt before he came. Thinking he was dreaming, he pulls her to him and kisses her long and hard, then panics when he realizes it isn't a dream. They argue, but in the midst of it, they hear the wards popping and realize the ruckus is Harry arriving. After finding him and returning to the cabin, Ron gives Harry the motorbike and Harry, who loves it, quickly realizes it had belonged to Sirius. Ron tails Hermione the next morning to protect her and witnesses the arrival of the 'Ministry official', the ancient Dr. Nardstone. With some surprise, Ron wonders if Hermione was aware that Dr. Nardstone is Dr. Voyde's "Uncle Phelix", a revelation she makes just after receiving a parchment from Nardstone's house-elf assistant. Voyde reads the message, looks relieved, and then tucks it away._

_>>ES_

"You're a good man, Shacklebolt. You too, Herring," Moody said, until he realized he was talking to a woman and cleared his throat. "Errr...good _Auror,_ Herring. I'll have to owe one to you both."

Moody drew in breath as he turned back to Tonks, a shooting pain piercing right to his ankle – the one that was no longer there. "Damned...fool...Death Eater—have to spend the rest of my life living with what he done to me..." he muttered. He leaned heavily on his walking stick as they began to traverse the crowded Ministry corridor.

"So...now what?" Tonks asked. "Shacklebolt and Herring are covering our watch on Harry for today, so where do we go from here?"

"To check on the lad," Moody said. "From the Auror Department. I've still got a few friends that can manage to slip me in to use the, er, equipment. Come along."

Thirty minutes later Tonks and Moody were staring at a misty screen above a churning cauldron of Ministry-regulated Placement Potion.

"Arabella Figg showed up in my fire last night – claims she lost Harry for a while yesterday at her place," Moody said, waving his wand around in front of the screen to navigate a rudimentary map of London as he talked. "Let's see here...Surrey...Anyway, she and Dung finally got wise enough to check with the boy's relatives. Damned Muggles wouldn't let Arabella and Dung in to see him, but they said he'd just run the stairs like a madman, ready to upchuck. Muggles said they could still hear Harry in his room once our pair got there."

Tonks was alarmed. "Upchuck? Is Harry all right?"

"Dunno," Moody mumbled, still working on pinpointing Little Whinging. "Suppose a bit of the flu never killed no one. Damned nasty business, though."

"Has anyone _seen _him, then? I mean, any of _us?"_ she asked, apparently trying to absorb some of what Moody was doing at the same time.

"No, not so far...which is why we're checking to see if we get a reading for him," Moody said, finally stopping his wand on Privet Drive. "Tain't nobody like to be bothered when they got the flu—especially the _wizard_ flu -- so this oughtta tell us without havin' to bother him."

Tonks quieted for a few minutes as she watched Moody finish his check. "Maybe Harry will be feeling better by tomorrow. I'll go for a visit then."

"Do what you will, lass," Moody said without looking at her. "Just don't be taking no sick time off next week, if the bug gets ya. We're short-handed as it is. Yeah... yeah... there it is. One Firebolt registered to one Harry Potter, accompanied by one 11-inch holly and phoenix-feather wand registered to Harry Potter. Both now in residence at Number Four Privet Drive and I reckon they don't belong to those Muggles. Looks like he's in there, all right. We know he wouldn't go nowhere without those."

_>>>ES_

The slam of the door made them both jump.

"Hermione!" Ron said, finally able to breathe. "Thank you for the heart attack!"

Once Ron had returned from his outing as protector, he and Harry had spent much of the day talking about so many things: the motorbike, the fact that only Nardstone had arrived as the 'Ministry official', the motorbike, Hermione's and Dr. Null's surprise that Nardstone was Voyde's uncle, the motorbike exterior, the motorbike interior, how to find a way to 'ship' some of the destroyed Yeti food back to the Ministry, and the motorbike. Once they were all talked out, Ron sneaked out into the camp once more to 'borrow' two cleaning rags he'd seen hanging on a clothesline behind the house-elves' living quarters so they could polish-- the motorbike.

"Here," Hermione said shortly, shoving a burlap sack at Ron and stomping across the room to the desk.

"What's this? More dog biscuits? Aw, you shouldn't have – enough for all of us?" Ron asked, starting to open the bag to peer inside.

But when he looked up at the scowl on Hermione's face, he knew immediately she wasn't in the mood to play.

"Why didn't you two have the Security Spells in place while I was gone?" she demanded.

Ron and Harry looked at one another blankly.

"Didn't we?" Harry asked.

"We musta forgot when I came back with the rags," Ron explained.

"Well, you should have had them working," Hermione said tersely. "Especially now."

Ron stuck his long arm down to the bottom of the bag and pulled out a wrapped sandwich, handing it to Harry. Reaching back in to rummage through the numerous packages of wrapped foods and fruit, he found another sandwich and held it out to Hermione, who vigorously shook her head that she wasn't interested. Ron kept it for himself and opened it hungrily. Both boys sat down on the end of the bed to eat.

"Look what I found," Hermione said, reaching into her shorts pocket and pulling out a piece of parchment crumpled into a wad. She un-crumpled it and passed the flattened note to Ron. "Supposed to be a secret memo so they can catch whoever's been disrupting the wards at night."

Harry grimaced, swallowing his mouthful. "You mean –"

"Us," Ron said, passing the parchment to Harry.

"But I don't think they suspect anything about you two – or anyone from outside," Hermione said. "It's rather weird. They all seem to be suspicious of each other instead—that Smeggers man, especially."

Ron was relieved. "So how did you get the parchment? Are you _usually _in on the secret memos?"

"Never," Hermione said. "Null got it from Voyde, read it and crunched it up, then he shoved it in his pocket. But he was wearing his brown herringbone trousers today."

Harry's brow was furrowed. "Having a little trouble with the connection there—"

"He has a hole in his trousers pocket," Hermione said. "I hate the days he wears those – I have to chase around after him all day picking things up. At least this was something worth finding."

"So how are they going to catch the ones messing with their wards then?" Ron asked.

"Good question," Hermione said, reaching back into her pocket again for another parchment wad, which she unfolded and passed to Ron again. "Message number two. They've permanently attached the dog runs to the kennels, so the dogs have access to the runs all of the time, with only a blocking gate by the main gate into the habitat to keep the dogs enclosed when the handlers are going in and out. Plus, there'll be a guard all night _in_ the camp itself and they're changing the security codes for the wards. In fact, they already have. Which means—"

"We can't use the ones Ron's got any more," Harry said dejectedly while Ron swore loudly.

"Precisely," Hermione said. "None of us can fly out of the camp proper any more, which makes me especially angry that you're still here, Harry."

"Makes _you_ angry?" Ron asked. "Well, if you'd only come with me when you were supposed to, none of us would be here still—"

Hermione turned to respond to him with fire in her eyes, but Harry jumped in.

"All right, all right, arguing won't get us anywhere. So we still have to wait until dark to fly out once we decide to go -- that hasn't changed."

"And I'm still not going unless she does, so I reckon _that_ hasn't changed-- _has it?"_ Ron directed the final two words straight at Hermione.

"No, it hasn't, because the Yeti are still starving and deprived, and we still have no proof," Hermione said, standing up to Ron's accusatory glare.

"So – you're the one who's been here all this time, Hermione," Harry said. "Any thoughts on what to do? Or are we stuck, even once you get your proof and we're ready to go?"

"I have one idea – but I'm not sure how we'd do it, nor how you two will feel about it. But just listen." Hermione crossed her arms in front of her chest and walked back and forth before them as she talked, seeming to be thinking things out as she went. "We know we can't fly out of the camp proper because that's where everything's been warded up until now. Ron and I have seen that the fences to the habitat are warded, too."

"And even the Yeti can't break those," Ron added.

"Right," Hermione said. "But, Ron – do you remember anything being warded out in the habitat itself?"

Ron thought a moment. "No."

"And Leif – " Hermione said. "Do you remember anything stopping him when he was swinging high in the trees, then dropping down?"

"Who's Leif?" Harry asked.

"A ruddy show-off," Ron said on impulse, then stammered under Hermione's glare. "I - I mean, he's an all-right bloke, er, Yeti --one of the Yeti."

"One of the Yeti who was pretty much all over the place, high, low, inside, and out—and who was quite aware of where the wards were and were not," Hermione said. "Unless you've got a structure to build the ward spells upon, like at Hogwarts, it's very difficult to set them that high – higher than the trees, right?"

Harry and Ron looked at each other again.

"If you say so," Ron said, shrugging.

"There are no licensed ward and spell specialists here, unless someone's hiding something, because I've seen all of their personnel files," Hermione continued. "They're pretty much all scientists or animal handlers. So I'm guessing that: one, they wouldn't have had time to re-set the wards completely over the habitat yet, or two, they might never have planned on having any at all. One thing the Yeti cannot do is go straight up into the air without something to climb on, so why would they bother with wards over the top of the habitat?"

"That's, er...great, Hermione," Harry said. "But how does that help us?"

"If there's nothing to keep us from the air over the habitat – " Hermione began.

"We should be able to fly out from there – " Harry said.

"Without disturbing any wards!" Ron finished.

Hermione smiled. "Exactly. So I was thinking...for proof, we need to ship some still-burning food to the Ministry, if possible. Once the handlers are burning half the food from tonight's shipment, one of us creates a distraction, the other two load up the food and get it to the Post Room. I've already held the shipping bill so that the Space Dislocation channel isn't settled and can be opened in seconds. Then we can get into the habitat somehow and fly out from there."

"We?" Ron asked, looking at her hopefully. He set the burlap sack on his lap to speak since he'd been fishing around in it as she spoke, looking for something else to eat. "Meaning --_all_ of us?"

"If we can get the proof shipped--" Hermione said, "—yes, I'll go. Only so I can explain to the Ministry or Dumbledore or _someone_ what it is and why it's there. I've already written a letter to leave for Dr. Null, explaining my intentions." Hermione reached into her other shorts pocket and pulled out a perfectly folded bit of parchment; she dropped it on the desk. She fell into the desk chair, obviously still thinking hard. "Only one major problem left..."

"Only one?" Ron asked. "I've been out there too, remember, and what you've got there already sounds like quite a lot to do while working in the near-dark, trying to get past those handlers and the Yeti and dogs before we set off. You think there'll be no problems with that?"

"Maybe a few little things, but I think we can handle them, only—"

"So let's hear the _big_ problem then," Ron said sarcastically.

"If we're out there shuffling burning food, smoke and all, from place to place, it's likely to attract attention that even a pretty big distraction won't help," Hermione said.

"I'd say that's probably a good point," Harry said. "How long can one of us distract them from something like that?"

"If it was fully dark, it would help more, but we can't do it then because the food will no longer be there – it'll already be all burnt up and no longer good as evidence. They always burn the extra food around the time the sun is going down or just after. But it still stays light for quite a while."

"Which means it would be fairly easy for them to see us," Ron said.

"No Invisibility Cloak this time, either," Harry said. "I had to travel light."

"Even if we can do something to the guard in camp at that time, and if there's no one else, it would take too long to get back here to get the motorbike and the broom and get them out into the habitat and we'd get caught for sure." Hermione leaned forward in the chair to talk to the two boys. "But what if we did...this..."

_>>>ES_

"Flashy," Moody grumbled. "Too bloody flashy."

He stepped past the large storefront window of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. A gaudy, blinking, neon-colored sign lit his face, advertising the twins' latest invention, the "Marks Mask Potion" next to the image of a winking student who held out toward his mum a report card full of terrible marks. It was apparent the woman was unable to see the actual nature of the marks, since she appeared quite thrilled by them and repeatedly leaned in to give the student a kiss on the cheek.

"G'day, Mr. Weasley," Moody said loudly as he entered and when it seemed that the tall, red-haired store proprietor would turn to walk away into the back room. He'd never been able to tell one twin from the other, so the formal address took care of several problems.

"Professor—er, Mr. Moody!" the twin said, wheeling around in surprise at the voice. "Welcome to our fine establishment! To what do we owe this distinct pleasure?" He smiled brightly and set down the parchment work he'd been holding on the counter next to the cash register.

"Wouldn't be willing to part with any more of those powdered Ramora scales you sold me a couple of months back, would you? The Apothecary's out again, as always, and I know you use 'em quite regular for so many o' those exploding things," Moody said. "Runnin' a bit low on my Ghostlimb Potion and these phantom pains'll kill ya."

The twin looked thoughtful for a moment before speaking. "Yeah, that Potion surely helped out a pirate's pegleg or two in its day—" He suddenly looked rather alarmed at himself for saying that, so he cleared his throat and quickly continued. "...Not that that would have anything to do with your circumstances, of course."

A large bang was heard from the back of the store and Moody's magical eye suddenly began to act quite agitated, swinging around and jumping from side to side.

The twin before him looked quite uncomfortable at the sound and seemed to be forcing himself to look straight ahead at Moody rather than instinctively turning to look behind him. "You know, I'm pretty sure I saw some there in the back. Haven't been able to leave the shop and go get the regular ingredient shipments --**_what with Fred gone on business and all!_ –** but we've likely got enough to get you by, I'd wager."

Odd that the boy would speak so loudly in only the middle of his sentence, Moody thought, but then those twins had always been a little off. So if Fred was gone...

"You must be George then?" Moody asked.

"Er...yeah," 'George' said, still a bit distracted. "At your service."

"Fred's away on business then, you say?"

"Yeah – for a few days is all," George said, pulling a large sheaf of parchments out from under the counter and beginning to look through them. "Er, I'll just check the expiration date on that last batch. That Ramora powder's really volatile stuff once it's past the expiration date, nothing you'd want to use for a consumable potion in that state."

Popping erupted from the back room now and the sound of something liquid trickling onto the floor made both of them squirm a little.

Moody scowled and tried to subtly lean left to see around George, but he could spot nothing but the empty doorway and a large work table covered with a huge mess: a conglomeration of parchments, tools, boxes, cauldrons, pestles and mortars virtually covered every available inch of work space.

"Must be that ruddy cat again," George said nervously.

Quite suddenly a cat appeared at the side of the empty doorway, but to Moody's mind, the thing was acting quite mad. It hissed and swatted at something unseen behind the side of the doorway, then appeared to try and run away. Yet, oddly, it just as quickly ended up back at the side of the door again with something seeming to push it from behind. Strangely enough, whatever was pushing it looked more and more like a shoe the more the cat was pushed into view.

George appeared to have found his expiration date and turned at the sound of the hissing cat. Then he turned back to Moody with a grin. "Ah, see? Told you it was the cat. What evil have you been up to, eh, kitty? Bad Fritz! All right, I'll go get that for you -- be right back, sir."

Moody said nothing, but watched warily as George disappeared through the door right behind the irritated feline that darted away in front of him. He could have sworn he heard the sound of a fist being punched into flesh and just after, a muffled, "hey!" along with frenzied whispering. Auror training and years of chasing Dark wizards made for the development of razor-sharp listening skills, even outside of any normal wizard's earshot.

But some other noise was running interference now. It took Moody a moment to pinpoint its source, yet he soon realized it was from somewhere behind and above him. The noise was likely intended to be singing, but it had a terrible, grating, gravelly quality to it – not to mention it was coming from a birdhouse mounted above the entry door.

He turned to focus on the birdhouse just in time for something to fly out and yell, "Oi, Fred! I've remembered where I left that receipt for the..._Holy Hippogriffs_!... It's—"

Whatever it was that flew from the birdhouse was apparently just as unpleasantly surprised as Moody, as evidenced by the stunned look on its face once it looked up. Its half-smoked 'cigar' dropped from the bottom lip of its wide-open mouth to the floor.

As soon as the old Auror could focus on the gruff and swarthy little creature hanging in the air before him, he finished his sentence for him. "—You!" Moody snarled.

"Oh, no, no, no," the creature stammered, his wings reversing to take him backwards now. "I'm not that bloke. I know what you're thinking – but you got the wrong man, er, fairy. I'm not him." With that, Howard wheeled around in mid-air and hastily retreated through the hole in the bird house.

Moody growled and turned back to the counter as the twin who'd been helping him returned from the back room. "He live there, does he?"

George – or by now he wasn't sure just who he was talking to – looked puzzled at Moody's remark, to which Moody thrust a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the bird house.

"Oh – Howard?" George said, finally catching on. "So you've met, then? Well, don't mind him, he's new and all...still trying to civilize him a bit, if you get my drift..."

"Howard, eh?" Moody asked. "So that's his name this week. Oh – and he didn't seem too certain that Fred was off on business. Seemed to think... you might be Fred."

George chuckled nervously. "Yeah, well – you know how tough it for everyone to tell us apart. Reckon he just forgot who was who. Honest mistake."

"Nothing in the least bit honest about that bloke," Moody muttered.

"So here you go," George jumped in with mock cheerfulness, appearing anxious to get on with the transaction.

_And_ _perhaps anxious to get me out of his shop?_ Moody thought.

"Lucky for you the Ramora scale's on special today," George continued, sounding hopeful. "Well – special for you, that is. Take it – with our compliments – you know, as a token of our thanks for all the hard work you Aurors do...er, did... er, used to do..and some—others -- still do, of course."

Moody considered pursuing it further, but saw no reason to let the issue take up any more of his time. He had more important things to contend with, like making sure Harry was all right—and that had nothing to do with these mad blokes.

"Thank you kindly then, _George,"_ Moody said with special emphasis on the name so he could watch the twin's reaction in a last ditch attempt to see if there was something strange about it. But not a muscle in the young man's face twitched, much to Moody's dismay.

Another shooting pain in his leg reminded him he had an hour or two of potion-making to attend to as well, and the sooner the better. Hobbling through the front entrance to the shop, he heard George say rather half-heartedly, "Stop in again, sir...sometime..."

_Oughtta keep an eye and an ear out on that place,_ Moody thought, _what with that group o'characters in cahoots..._

_>>>ES_

"Mad," Ron said, shaking his head. "The girl is barking mad."

"Then why did you agree to go along with her plan?" Harry asked. "Kinda dodgy, if you ask me."

"Me?" Ron asked. "I thought you agreed first – and I didn't want to be the bad bloke, as always. She's already read me the riot act about the fact that no one except that old geezer showed up."

It was silent between the two boys for a few minutes. They waited in back of Hermione's cabin as she purportedly checked the camp to make certain everyone else was at dinner. Ron held Fred's broomstick in his hand and stood close to the corner of the building, while Harry stood a few feet back with the motorbike.

Ron heard a click, then the sounds of his best friend rustling around behind him; he looked back to see what the problem could be. "Oh – it's that kickstand. It gets loose like that. You only need something called a Philips screwdriver to tighten that up, but I left that tool at home."

"But it--won't-- move," Harry said, grunting as he tried to move the motorbike forward a foot or so to be ready for the signal.

"Yeah – well, it's there—" Ron said, gesturing toward the side of the motorbike closest to him.

"Where?" Harry looked all over the side of the motorbike where he stood holding the handlebars.

"Right _there,"_ Ron said, pointing and not wanting to leave his watch in case he missed Hermione. "Other side. The kickstand's down, so it's dragging and won't let the bike move forward."

"You know what?" Harry said. "Maybe _you_ should be the one to get this thing out into its hiding place. You know better what all of its little quirks are. It might take me some time – and that we haven't got right now. Here – I'll take the broomstick – besides, this broomstick and I got to be quite close over the past day or so."

Ron looked at the broom in his hand. "Whose is this anyway?"

"Fred's," Harry said, as he switched places with Ron and took the broomstick from his friend.

Harry had brought Ron up to date on the twins' scheme earlier in the day while waiting for Hermione to be done with work. Chuckling quietly now, Ron could just imagine how irritated Fred was when he found out he was the wand and broomstick donor. "Good," he said, still smirking. "I like that."

Ron incanted _"Reparo!"_ at the flimsy kickstand joint, knowing that the spell would only hold for a day or two without tightening from a real bona fide screwdriver – motorbikes charmed to fly appeared to be odd like that. But, with any luck, he should be at the Burrow with Phillips in hand long before. And with Hermione standing right behind him, too, if he had anything to do with it – out of this place that was so full of evil that he hadn't been expecting. Lost in his daydream, he stepped around the back of the motorbike; the light from the setting sun hit him square in the face and brought him back to reality.

He squinted and held up his hand to block the sun, trying to judge just how much time they were going to have. _How can she think this is going to work?_ he thought. If Hermione's calculations were correct, they might have as much as half an hour or forty-five minutes from now before the sun went down to get the motorbike and the broomstick to their hiding places outside the confines of the camp. That should then give them another half hour or forty-five minutes of light beyond that, during which time the food shipment should arrive. Once that appeared, she said it usually took them until just about the time it was dark to distribute the food to the feeding stations, and about the same length of time for the handler who was in charge of 'disposing' of the 'rancid' food to take it out near the dog kennels and burn it. There, they would find some way to get it to the Post Room. Oh yes, and as soon as it was dark, there was an extra guard on watch in the camp to catch them.

Ron didn't really mind following hare-brained schemes sometimes – heaven knows he'd gone along with plenty between the twins and Harry. Not only that, he ordinarily didn't mind attempting the impossible – after all, he was here, wasn't he? But this didn't look good. _How can she think this is going to work? And **where** is she?_

"Did I mention the girl was mad?" Ron asked, not really expecting an answer.

"Ron," Harry said, squinting in the direction of the north end of the lab building. "That's Hermione there, isn't it?"

Ron stepped forward as far as he could without shoving the motorbike's front tire out where it could be seen. He still had to crane his neck to see where Harry was looking. Sure enough, Hermione was standing on the cement stoop of the far entrance to the lab building where the two of them had sneaked through on their way back into the main camp last night. Both of her arms were above her head and she was swinging them back and forth wildly to catch his and Harry's attention. _She must be fairly certain there's no one out and about in the camp if she's doing that – I hope,_ Ron thought.

"Yeah, that's her – hard to tell, I know, but that's the lab building," Ron said, raising his own arm and waving back to let her know they'd seen her. At that, she pointed toward the bushes behind the commons and then indicated they should move everything forward to there on her signal. "Got it, Harry?"

"Yeah, we're going to those bushes over there, right?" He pointed and Ron nodded. " Waiting...there's the signal. Let's go."

The two boys scrambled with broomstick and motorbike across the open area and shoved their way into the protective brush. When they looked toward Hermione, they saw her hold her hand out flat in front of her to mean 'stop' and wait. She could see most of the camp very well from her vantage point; with any luck she could lead them around the edge of the camp to the lab building without being spotted.

She next had them cross to hide behind the Post Room. There wasn't much space for them to fit in two sixteen-year-old boys and two modes of transportation too, but they pushed themselves together to wait for her signal.

"Hope this goes fast," Harry said, sounding as if he was holding his breath to keep from being pushed into the open by the motorbike bouncing off his backside.

"What's she doing?" Ron said, since he was bringing up the rear now and couldn't see.

"Just looking...all right, I think she's going to...yes! There it is!" Harry stepped out to make a run for the bushes behind a supply shed. "Wait!" he hissed, stopping short and jerking forward from Ron nearly running him over with the motorbike.

"What the bloody hell--?" Ron complained.

"She put up the stop signal and kind of flipped her hand back over her head like she was smoothing her hair," Harry said. "She's talking to someone who just walked up to her -- a very short someone..."

"Kinda greenish-yellow someone?" Ron asked dryly.

"Yeah – now I can see it's a house-elf," Harry answered. "He's walking back across the open area now...she's still got the stop signal up for us because he's, oh—back up!"

Ron did as he was told, looking behind him to make certain he and the motorbike weren't hanging out the other side of the shack now. He and Harry even tried to breathe quietly, if that was possible. They heard the light footsteps of the house-elf as he approached and then passed in front of the Post Room, apparently on his way back to the commons building.

"Now!" Harry said urgently, after a minute of watching for Hermione's signal; both of them ran for the stoop where Hermione was, allowing her to quickly open the lab building door and usher them safely – and hopefully invisibly—inside.

"Made it!" she said, releasing a great sigh.

"Just down this long hallway, right?" Ron asked, starting to push the motorbike that direction. "It was darker when we came through last night."

"Yes – and then down to the huge door at the end that leads outside—it's only ever locked coming from the habitat – this side's always open," she answered. " But stop when you get there and I'll check outside for whoever – whatever – might be out there--"

"Sounds like great fun," Harry commented sarcastically.

"Oh yeah," Ron said. "You're gonna love it."

Hermione made a noise of exasperation. "Honestly, Ron! The Yeti probably aren't even all awake yet – besides, lately most of the serious problems have happened at night."

"Which is fast approaching," Ron mumbled.

"We'll be out before it's totally dark. And everyone else is going to be finishing with dinner in a matter of minutes, so – all the better to move along anyway, right?" she said huffily, glaring at Ron.

"Hey, this was your idea," Ron said.

"And it was well-noted there were _none_ from anyone else present. Right, Harry?"

Harry, under the glare of both of his friends, just shrugged and shook his head. "Er...I forget," he said, apparently in the interest of diplomacy.

Hermione simply stared at Harry for a moment. "Convenient," she said tersely, flipping her hair and striding off ahead of them down the corridor.

Deep in the habitat, Hermione stood proudly and looked at absolutely nothing for a good minute or two before she spoke.

"There! Thought I could do it!" She smiled at her own handiwork.

Harry and Ron stood gaping at the nothingness as well.

"Nice work, Hermione!" Harry said enthusiastically.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again," Ron added. "You're a bit scary sometimes, you know. Brilliant, but scary... And it's really still there?" Ron took several halting steps toward the empty patch of dirt in the forest, holding out his hand until it connected with something rough and covered with splinters: the side wall of the old miner's hut Hermione had just enchanted.

"So, what happens if one of the Yeti come across it?" Harry asked. "You've said they're quite magical. They won't be able to undo the enchantment?"

"First off, they're not likely to know the hut's there--," Hermione explained, "-- and if they happen to run into it, they can feel it, but haven't any idea what kind of thing they're un-enchanting, so they wouldn't know where to start. Unless, of course, they have far better memories than we've ever found out about and remember that the old wreck was still out here somehow. That's why I picked this place," Hermione said. "Didn't know if it still existed, of course, but it was still on the most recent map of the habitat, marked by Smeggers, I think, as 'un-useable'."

By now, Ron had felt his way across the front of the invisible shed and opened the door, though it must have looked to the other two as if he was pantomiming. He started to take a step inside to make sure the motorbike and Fred's broomstick were still there, but a shimmering yellow wall appeared before him and he began to feel as if every splinter in the original shed had just been shoved into every inch of his skin.

"Aarggh!" he said loudly and jumped back.

"Shhhh!" Hermione warned. "I don't think any of the Yeti would be out this far when it's this close to feeding time, but you can bet that if they are, they're not the nicer ones. Oh – and I don't think you're supposed to disturb the enchanted area."

Ron was rubbing both of his arms with the opposite hands. "Thank you for letting me know – so soon and all," he said sarcastically. "So if you're not supposed to disturb it, how do you get rid of the enchantment if we need to get out of here fast?"

"Well, if all goes as planned, I'll be here with you, so—" Hermione started.

"No. Uh-uh," Ron said. "Since when do these things always go as planned? Remember the little mission at the Department of Mysteries and how well that went?"

Harry suddenly found a serious interest in his shoe top.

Turning away from Harry so that he couldn't see her face, Hermione looked at Ron accusingly and rolled her eyes in Harry's direction.

Feeling terrible, Ron grimaced and could have kicked himself. He and Harry had already talked a lot out several weeks ago, but – that was then and Harry didn't need reminding. "Sorry, mate."

Harry looked up, serious but determined. "Fact of life, I'm afraid – or death." Then he sighed.

"So you haven't answered my question," Ron said. "What if Harry or I need to get in here _fast _– and you're not around for some reason?"

"You already know the basic Invisible Enchantment Spell from Charms," Hermione began. "It's just grander and more intense – so remember that. And if you or Harry has to reverse it, I'm sure the reversal would have to be just as intense as the initial enchantment. Then I've tied all of our middle names this time to it as a Security Feature, so don't forget to use JamesBiliusJane. I don't think anyone else would ever think of that, do you?"

"Hermione!" Ron said in exasperation. "I said what if we need to get in here _fast!"_

"Well, you'd just do what I said—"

A fearful Yeti yell interrupted her and echoed through the trees, not far from where they stood.

"And so it begins," Ron said resignedly. They'd have to deal with the Charms lesson later. "We'd better get out of here. Now you _think _we can get through the gate at this time because they're filling the feeding stations?

"I think so," Hermione said. "You and I were much later last night and they'd already locked up."

"Not to mention they were trying to keep the Yeti loonies in," Ron said dryly.

"They're not _all_ loonies, Ron," Hermione protested.

"We'd better get on it if we mean to get to that food before they burn it up completely," Harry said. "That is still the plan, right? Then, as soon as we've taken care of getting that shipped off to the Ministry, we head back out here, get the broom and the bike, and we're off? Still a bit too soon for me, but maybe we can sneak off to the Burrow instead--"

An odd, muffled thumping noise made its way through the forest and the trio stopped talking to listen to it more closely.

"What _is_ that?" Ron asked.

"I don't know," Hermione said. "I've never heard a Yeti make a noise like that before. It sounds like—" An urgent, panicked animal shriek gave way to a sudden, ominous silence. "A horse! Ron!"

"I know," Ron said seriously, visually scanning the forest. "Where'd it come from?"

"I'm not sure...I think...near the Feeding Station maybe," Hermione said. "Come on."

Hermione led Ron and Harry through the trees at a brisk trot, all of them aware they could go no faster or they'd risk tripping over branches and stumps in the gathering darkness. As they ran, another deep, prideful Yeti yell pierced the dusky summer air, sounding much like the same Yeti who'd yelled before. Several others answered the call from various parts of the forest.

The three friends were making headway well when they saw several dozen meters to the east the lanterns from Feeding Station Two. They had stopped running and were picking their way through the brush carefully and quietly. There was still a bit of light, though it was going fast. They had to try and remain in the deeper foliage so as not to be spotted, but it didn't make for quick travel. Muffled noises and large bodies moving around could be heard now, quite a few of them, and when they finally found a place to peer through the leaves into the clearing, what they saw was far from a calm and casual feeding session.

Spyder commanded the attention of everyone present. His nostrils flared, his black eyes blazing, his chest heaving with the rapid breathing borne of something akin to adrenaline speeding through his body, he looked every bit the conqueror. The air of excitement about him belied the truth at his feet – what he savored was not victory over another male of his kind, but the thrill of his fresh kill.

On the ground before him and not far from the flattened cartons of recently-delivered Yeti rations, a horse lay dead. Bleeding bite marks showed as the only blemishes on a neck angled oddly away from its body. Its back foot twitched gruesomely, but thankfully, not for long.

The rest of the Yeti stood stunned, expressions of confusion crossing their faces. Some looked deep in thought as they stared, as if they were trying to recall something they'd seen somewhere before. Others simply showed horror and revulsion at the sight before them, squirming uncomfortably and chancing furtive glances at one another in the group. A very few held half-eaten morsels from the Ministry food shipments, all but forgotten in the wake of the events of the past few minutes.

Striding slowly and purposefully from somewhere near the back of the group came Trey. Even those Yeti too much in shock to do anything else moved aside for their chosen leader, seemingly aware that something crucial was about to take place.

"No..." Hermione whimpered, holding one hand to her mouth as she watched Trey's progress toward Spyder. "What if they--?"

Ron knew they shouldn't be here. But he was quite aware there would be no tearing Hermione away from this place until she saw all she'd intended to see. He also knew her well enough that he felt compelled to find out where her other hand was – and he'd been right to look. She'd removed her wand from her back pocket and whether aware of it or not, was slowly easing it out in front of her, aimed roughly in Spyder's direction. Before Ron could reach for her to do something about that, the thrashing and cracking of branches overhead distracted and worried him enough to make him even more determined they should find a safer place if they were staying much longer. Scanning the dimly lamplit forest to his right, he found his answer.

He then turned back to Hermione. "Oh, no you don't," he whispered, staying Hermione's rising wand hand with his own long fingers.

"But—" she tried to protest.

"No," he insisted. "Isn't there some law or something that keeps you from interfering with Yeti business unless you have to? There must be."

"But look what Spyder's done!" she said. "What if he does the same to Trey? After what went on in their cave—"

"—And in spite of all the fireworks, they're both still standing there, aren't they? We, on the other hand, might be quite dead if we'd interfered more and if—" Ron realized he didn't really want to admit what he was about to tell her, but he forced himself – "if that Yeti kid hadn't got us out of there."

Hermione frowned and began to say something else, but grudgingly allowed Ron to pull her wand away and push it into his own back jeans pocket. Then, knowing there was no way words alone would persuade her to move in her sullen mood, he took full hold of her now-empty hand and started pulling her through the brush behind him. "Harry! Come on – over here."

Just as the three of them had managed to squeeze themselves under the observation platform from where Ron and Hermione had watched the feeding the night before, an enormous crash and thud startled them from precisely where they'd been hiding mere moments before. A body shoved its way through the brush into the feeding station clearing and the three saw Leif enter the circle of light from the lanterns.

"Speak of the devil," Ron muttered and Hermione socked him hard in the arm with her free hand_. But at least she's only **got** one free hand,_ Ron thought to himself through the pain of her punch. She hadn't yet released Ron's hand with her other as they watched and in spite of the danger they were in, he couldn't help but feel a smile welling up inside of him. _Maybe she's given up being peeved..._

Trey had almost reached Spyder by now, but there were as yet no fireworks. A loud, deep growl was heard coming from the general direction of the two male Yetis, but it was impossible to tell which of them was doing it, if not both. The other Yetis from the group present stood frozen and silent, giving the feeling they could be almost holding their breath.

The regal old Yeti stopped mere meters from the darker, stronger, and younger one before him. The dead horse lay on the ground between them. Staring deep into the eyes of Spyder, Trey mumbled something in the half-spoken, apparently half-telepathic language the Yeti used to communicate among themselves.

Whatever was said, it must have been something very meaningful because those Yeti who were near enough to Spyder and Trey looked somberly alarmed, their eyes darting toward one another, apparently afraid to react much more than that.

Trey held out his hands over the dead animal, palms toward the ground. He swung his enormous hands first to the left and to the right as if trying to assess what had actually taken place without ever touching the horse. But from the reactions of Spyder and those Yeti around the two, the three friends realized Trey was not just making an assessment, but an accusation.

Even the rebellious Spyder looked torn enough that one could almost believe this was some sort of ancient rite, something that he'd been raised to respect and that the Yeti had carried with them in their culture for hundreds, if not thousands of years. The insolence in the young Yeti's stance was gone, but on his face floated a mass of emotion, ever changing between fear and hatred.

Suddenly the older Yeti's arms slowly rose until his wrists were at eye level. More noises and grunts were heard as he spoke, then he crossed his arms in front of his forehead at the wrist, fingers outstretched to make an enormous 'X' in front of his head. His voice rising in volume, he was shouting by the time he spoke some final Yeti incantation.

Violently, Trey swung his hands to his sides, his fingertips etching in green light a huge 'X' in the air before him. The light slashed at Spyder; he fell off-balance momentarily and then staggered to stand upright again. And when he did, the lantern light reflected a huge, dark, glistening and dripping 'X' fully crossing the young Yeti's chest. It was hard to tell for certain in the meager light, but from the reaction of the Yeti crowd, Ron could guess the dark cross they saw was from the shine of Spyder's blood.

Ron could feel Hermione squeezing his hand hard now– a little too hard, but he knew she was just doing all she could not to interfere. A quick glance to his left showed her expression as tense and taut, and every few seconds she would draw in short little gasps of air between her teeth.

Spyder looked frantic now, but he didn't move much. He was breathing hard, fast, and shallow – his eyes darted everywhere – he was quite obviously in pain, both physically and mentally. Although the injury to him didn't seem life-threatening, there was definitely something more to it than what could be seen – and the three friends watched in awe as they realized what it was. One by one, the Yeti repeated Trey's ritual toward Spyder – though theirs must have been primarily symbolic because no further harm came to the young Yeti's body than what Trey had already done. Once their incantation was finished, each Yeti in turn faced away, head and gaze lowered in a somber pose, as if they were in mourning. They stayed in this position as the next Yeti in turn began their own ritual.

"What are they doing?" Harry whispered to Hermione.

"Killing is forbidden among the Yeti except for food," she explained. "That horse isn't the sort of animal they kill for food – and it looks like they have no intention of eating it, thank god. I think it's a banishment ritual of some sort. Dr. Null says they've been known to do that – and I can't imagine why else Spyder is just standing there except to respond to the judgment of the tribe, so to speak. It's weird –he's not the type to stand there and take it – especially from Trey. It's as if he's waiting..."

Nearly all were turned away from Spyder now except for Trey, Leif, and another Yeti near the back of the group. Hille had just finished her part of the ritual and turned her children to face away with her when there was a loud crashing through the brush once more. But this time, it was accompanied by shouts ringing through the forest and lanterns held aloft. The Yeti would not complete their ritual this day.

"_Stupefy!" _

Trey turned in alarm in time to receive a heavy magical blow straight to the middle of his chest. He was thrown backwards and he stumbled, but did not go down. Other Yeti were hit by the same spell from other wands – a few found themselves on the ground while others fought to stay upright. The one notable exception to the attack by the handlers was Spyder, who stood staring on for a few moments in surprise.

Four handlers came charging into the clearing, quickly followed by Carl Smeggers and Dr. Voyde. The handlers stayed circled around their leaders, wands drawn to hold any rampaging Yetis at bay.

But only one creature did anything different from the rest.

Spyder had returned to his previous state of excitement. Whether it was because the strange banishment ritual hadn't been completed or because of the tension of the handlers barging in, no one would ever know. Yet, oddly, Spyder seemed anxious to see Smeggers and Voyde, and even more anxious to show them what he'd done. Scooping up the horse's limp body easily with his strong arms, Spyder carried it to the center of the clearing and laid it as close as he could to the zooliwitch and her head man, even if he had to cautiously avoid two handlers with their wandpoints trained on his forehead just in case.

"Beautiful, Spyder," Dr. Voyde said soothingly, approaching the dead horse and its killer with almost a sense of awe and a smile, yet keeping a safe distance. "What a good Yeti you are."

"I told you," Carl grunted to her, following at her heels. "I told you, this one he is learning. He'll be the first to show her, you'll see – the first of his kind to make a name for himself. Hank, you got more food from the shipment?"

Hank cocked his head a bit while keeping his eye on Spyder to speak to his boss. "Only what's on the cart to be burned."

Hermione moaned softly. "Oh, no. The food shipment..."

"Makes no matter tonight," Carl said. "Not for this one. Spyder, he has earned his keep. Go now. Go to get it. An entire box—no, two! – just for this one Yeti. Bring it now!"

"Two boxes?" Dr. Voyde said. "Just for Spyder? You're sure we won't be biting off more than we can chew by rewarding him so lavishly?"

"It's the only way," Smeggers said. "The last two nights, the wards go down, too much noise! Too much noise – on what was supposed to be quiet nights – reward nights to give a clearcut message that killing can be good. The noise, the nights of no quiet has confused them. We must make a big deal about this one killing the horse even without the quiet nights. Two boxes of food for his own – perfect."

"Whatever you say, love," Dr. Voyde cooed. "You're my deprivation expert—for the Yeti, anyway." Her sickeningly sweet gaze up at Smeggers again made Ron want to retch.

"Sounds like there may not be much of a food shipment left to burn tonight," Harry said quietly.

"Or to ship to the Ministry for proof," Ron added.

Every other Yeti in the clearing had moved in stunned confusion either toward Trey, or toward the edge of the light so the safety and comfort of the dark forest could swallow them up. They were clustered together where they could be, confused and bewildered, acting as if they wondered how these wizards and witches could presume to charge in and change what had been Yeti tradition for so many thousands of years. They would look hurriedly at the sight of the dead horse, then turn away in apparent disgust and revulsion, obviously still confused that the wizards and the witch would think that killing such a magnificent creature could be such a good thing.

"Keep them here!" Dr. Voyde commanded, and the three handlers that remained after Hank's departure for food had to continuously send out Dolorus Spells to those Yeti who would try to escape from the clearing.

Hank returned shortly with two of the food boxes, carrying one and dragging one behind him in the air with a Mobilus Charm. "Here yeh go, yeh big hairy ape," he said, setting the boxes down before Spyder. The great Yeti had been waiting warily, yet seemed to expect that something good would come of his deed.

"You're more a big, hairy ape right now than that black one is," Carl told Hank. "Tonight, if we do this right, he's going to look and feel like a hero."

Spyder sat down and ripped off the cardboard cover from one of the boxes after collecting both of them into his lap. The other Yeti hungrily watched the huge, black killer slobber, slurp, and consume his own two boxes of food – exactly the number of cartons that had been left in the clearing to feed the entire rest of the group for the night.

Handlers stood nearby to make certain the other Yeti weren't allowed to leave and were forced to take in the entire spectacle. Trey stood among the group, but refused to look Spyder's way, while Starr lingered supportively near her mate's shoulder.

Hermione could take it no longer and let out a great sigh of frustration. "I can't stay here and watch this," she said miserably. "Look what they've done – look how they're trying to warp these poor creatures."

"Hermione – six of them, three of us —probably not the best idea to try and take them on, if that's what you're thinking," Harry said reasonably. "Especially with ...who do the Yeti side with, anyway?"

"Each other, unless they're male and then it's truly bolluxed up," Ron said. "But there must be something else we can do—"

"Wait," Harry said. "How many handlers did you say there were altogether?"

"Four, now that Sloane's gone," Hermione said distractedly, but then seemed to slowly catch on. "But...you're right, Harry, they're all here – all the other people in the camp – except Dr. Nardstone and Dr. Null..." Suddenly she gasped. "I've got to tell Dr. Null!

They've obviously not told him anything or he'd be here, so he's probably in the lab— and Nardstone's surely asleep by now—"

"And if they're all here, there's no one at the gate – or on guard in the camp—and that handler's just come through with the food..." Ron said. "No wards!"

The three friends all exchanged glances, ducked their heads, and crawled out from under the back of the observation platform. As they jogged toward the gates, a short squeal was heard from a Yeti or two, probably as they were given a reminder by the handlers that it would be bad manners to turn away from their new hero.


	25. A Horse of a Different Color

_**A/N:** Thank you,** Christina Teresa** and **Seakays**, for the especially-quick turnaround __on this beta and for the use of your ever-brilliant writers' minds to help me through__the exhaustion-induced rough spots. Also, many thanks to faithful reviewers **Cake Twins**, **scooterrg, Radish Earrings**, and **rgluvr13. **__You are the best! **NZ**_

**Chapter 25 **

**A Horse of a Different Color**

_**Chapter 24 Summary:**_

_Moody and Tonks discuss Harry's purported 'illness' and decide to swap duties with Shacklebolt and another Auror to check on Harry magically. They find evidence that Harry's wand and his broomstick are indeed registering in his room at the Dursleys, so they assume they needn't worry any more about him – other than for his health. Later that evening, Moody makes a visit to the twins' shop for potion ingredients, only to discover some suspicious goings-on there and Howard – with whom he seems to share some sort of past. At Trapperton, Ron and Harry spend much of the day discussing the motorbike while Hermione fulfills her duties as intern. Hermione brings news that she intercepted a memo stating that they've changed the ward security codes Ron and Harry used to get in, not to mention that a guard will be kept on the camp at all times and the dogs have permanent access to the runs. Hermione still wants to try and ship some of the partially burned food to the Ministry as proof. She creates a plan to have the boys help her move the motorbike and Fred's broom to the habitat, where they've realized there will be no overhead wards to deal with, so that they can access their transportation out of there once they've completed the food shipment to the Ministry. On their way back to camp from the habitat, they hear a horse and follow the sound to find Spyder standing over the freshly-killed animal. The Yeti present are appalled and Trey begins to perform a Yeti banishment ritual for Spyder for the crime, but the ritual is interrupted by the handlers, Voyde, and Smeggers, who praise Spyder for the kill. Spyder is lavishly rewarded with extra food and the rest of the Yeti are forced at wand point to watch him eat it while they go hungry._

_>>>ES_

"But it was right here!" Hermione said in disbelief. "It was!"

She and Dr. Null stood in the middle of Feeding Station Two not more than two hours after she'd been watching nearby with Ron and Harry. But there was no horse, no blood – and no Yetis. The only evidence that there had ever been any life there at all were the flattened, empty food cartons, complete with footprints stamped across the tops of them.

After returning to the camp earlier with Harry and Ron, she'd gone to Dr. Null's cabin and tried to rouse him without drawing attention to herself, her friends hidden in watch nearby. But there'd been no response after some ten minutes of soft knocking (_figures he'd be such a sound sleeper in those few hours he allows himself to sleep at all,_ she thought irritably). Then the constant interruptions by the returning handlers began as they wandered around the camp making certain all was Spell-Locked and warded for the remainder of the night. Eventually, the three friends had been driven back to Hermione's cabin.

"I reckon we're not going anywhere again tonight--" Ron said dejectedly, "—what with those morons out and about all this time."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Might as well try and get some sleep to see what we can get done tomorrow."

"But there'll be another food shipment tomorrow," Hermione offered. "Most of what was to be burned went to that murderous Yeti tonight anyway. There wouldn't have been anything substantial enough to send to the Ministry half-burned if we'd wanted to. Maybe tomorrow –"

Hermione looked hopefully into the faces of her friends as she spoke, but Ron interrupted her with what Harry was likely too polite to say. "Things are getting really ugly here, Hermione, with or without Umbridge. Maybe it's just the exhaustion talking, but maybe we ought to see what looks even possible tomorrow before we decide what to do about it. Mostly, we just need to find a way to get the hell out of here before any of us gets hurt. Without you and maybe your Dr. Null, your Yeti are up the creek anyway – so maybe you need to concentrate more on just getting out alive. What you have to realize is that these blokes aren't just going to let anyone prance right out of here. If they think you've even caught a hint of what's been going on . . ."

At this, Ron trailed off and she'd said nothing more, because, in truth, Ron was right.

But she hadn't been able to sleep – not yet. Not until she'd finally roused Dr. Null and shown him what lay on the habitat floor. Sneaking out alone through the bathroom window after the boys had fallen asleep and the camp had quieted, Hermione had slipped to Dr. Null's doorstep. With her wandtip jammed beneath the crack of the door, she'd performed an Alarm Charm of ever-increasing volume until the zooliwizard had come around and finally answered in baggy shorts and a battered white t-shirt.

The forest had been deathly quiet as they walked. The events of the night had apparently so stunned the Yeti that all had wandered off, bewildered and confused. No doubt Spyder was somewhere sleeping off his enormous feast.

"I believe you, Hermione. But it's not here now, so it does us no good," Christopher Null said in disappointment. He kicked the flattened carton of a food box away, momentarily slipping on another piece of cardboard, losing his balance and nearly dropping the wizard camera he'd brought along. "I know Spyder's a killer – he's done it before. It was, in fact, on one of the first nights you were here."

Hermione's gaze snapped to her mentor's face. "You've known he could kill bigger animals – for that long?"

"Beamer must have been sent to call Dr. Voyde that first night you were here and now that I think about it, he must have called me in error – poor bloke probably wasn't aware then that I wasn't _supposed_ to know what had happened. I thought...hoped...the killing was a one-time event. I assumed the poor horse had wandered into the habitat somehow from a neighboring farm and believed the whole thing might have had something to do with the male challenges. Afterwards, I went back to the lab to get a camera to record the evidence – the horse's body and the blood –as proof for my aggression research, you know. When I returned, this was precisely what I found." Null sighed as he held out his hands to indicate the rather barren patch of dirt. "At first I thought the Yeti had dragged the horse away – yet somehow the crime scene had been obliterated far too efficiently. Beamer had told me Spyder had done the killing..." Null trailed off for a moment in thought, "...I still can't quite believe Spyder kills for pleasure, but more for status – or personal gain perhaps. In the beginning I believed he'd killed the horse by mistake because as you know, the Yeti are not those sort of creatures by nature."

Hermione thought back to the pictures in Trey and Starr's cave and wondered if she should let on that she'd been inside it to see them. "They're not those sort of creatures by nature, but...could they be trained? Trained to kill?"

Null gave a wan little smile. "Quite the brilliant intern you are, Hermione. Since that first killing, I've heard and seen other things so often that now I'm convinced I'm making no mistake about what Voyde and the handlers are doing. But to answer your question...if the Yeti can be trained to communicate with us, as we already know they can be, then...yes, it's possible they could be trained to kill. Not all of them, mind, because as you know, not all of them can even be trained to communicate – and that is far more a part of their nature than killing. It would be much more difficult to train a creature _against_ its own nature."

"Even if that creature received great rewards for the killing?" Hermione asked. "Even if any other creature who tried to interfere with the killing itself or with group punishment for doing it was harmed?" Briefly, Hermione explained to Dr. Null what she'd seen in the feeding area earlier that night with Harry and Ron.

She paused to let him absorb it while she tore at her own insides trying to decide whether to tell him more. Though her heart told her one thing and her mind told her another, it was the interest of science that brought her both a conclusion and a very queasy stomach. "And Dr. Null?" she continued meekly, "I think...I might I know another way that Dr. Voyde and the handlers are training them."

Hermione then gently, but very deliberately and in great detail, proceeded to tell the brilliant, celebrated Crystobel Prize-winning zoolowizard just how his pet research and development project had been warped and twisted into something to train evil and hatred into the very creatures he sought to save. Elements of the communication system that were originally meant to give an endangered species the means to communicate their needs to the wizarding world had been scrawled crudely and obscenely on the Yetis' cave walls in an effort to turn the creatures into merciless killers.

She had almost stopped mid-explanation. Watching Dr. Null as she spoke - his shoulders slumping, his eyes becoming more sunken and lifeless, his head falling forward as if under the great weight of having been the creator of greatness-turned-curse – she began to fear for his health, both mental and physical, and wondered if she'd been right to speak of this at all.

"You've seen this – all of this – yourself?" Dr. Null said quietly.

"Yes," Hermione breathed. "Yes, sir."

"How did you – the caves?" Null appeared to be somewhat numb.

"Starr," she said.

Null nodded as if that almost made sense. "Have you any idea why it's horses?" he asked uncertainly.

_What a strange question right now,_ Hermione thought. "Er..no, sir. Have you?"

The zooliwizard looked slowly away from her then, as if in deep thought, then, appearing to suddenly remember someone was awaiting an answer, he vaguely shook his head. Null turned to look at her in a rather sidelong manner. "Exactly how many times have you managed to get out into the habitat on your own, Hermione?"

It hadn't occurred to Hermione that Null might ask her that. She'd been too absorbed in the heinousness of the crime and in trying to get him out here to see it himself. "I – I – well, tonight for instance, I was going for a walk after dinner– and I saw them taking extra food out into the habitat. None of the Yeti were around and I went in right behind the handler who left the gate open a little, so I didn't think it would do any harm to go watch them at feeding time. Like you and I did – I hid under the platform."

She hadn't been able to look at the zoolowizard as she spoke for fear he would see the lies in her eyes. But she looked at him now to see any reaction on his face. She could easily discern the resignation she'd seen there since the incident with Flaime – the only other thing she read was a lack of any emotion at all, an empty coldness she hadn't seen before.

"You know better than to go there alone at any time without permission, Hermione, though I suspect it was a far less impulsive move than you've made it sound. Though I suppose this time, at least, I won't have to explain to anyone how I managed to allow you out there on your own," Dr. Null said dejectedly, turning away and shaking his head. He appeared years older somehow. " To teach the Yeti to kill...is not only a crime in our world, but a crime against the laws of nature..."

Watching him turn to walk slowly away, Hermione couldn't believe what she was seeing. "Dr. Null! You mean you're not going to report it? Or make a record...?"

Null suddenly snapped and wheeled on her with an aggressiveness she'd never seen before. "Report _what? _Make a record of_ what? I saw nothing! _No matter how certain I may be of what actually happened out here, no matter how much I want to show the Ministry, no matter if I really do believe every blasted word you've said, it doesn't matter without any evidence. Do you have pictures of these cave paintings?"

Taken aback, Hermione stammered, "N-no, but I suppose we could—"

"Do you think I'm going to be able to just stroll on out there into the caves without anyone knowing? Me and all of my allies here in the camp and at the Ministry? How about proof that they're using positive reinforcement for the killings? Have any of that?" He paced before her as he ranted, arms flailing.

Hermione shook her head, trying desperately to think of what she could use to help. "No, I don't, sir...but—"

"Don't you see, Hermione? It's the word of a lone zoologist who's been damned with circumstantial evidence – one who a lot of people would like to see taken down a peg -- against the word of seven others who are still highly respected in the field, no matter what kind of beasts they are!"

Hermione felt tears of frustration welling up in her eyes – both for herself and for the one man at Trapperton who could actually help the Yeti – and who was being prevented by politics and government hearsay from doing so.

"I – I'm your ally, sir. I can report it," she said, trying to sound braver than she felt. "And I will! I saw it all. I can help you."

Null stopped before her, sighing and looking into her face, purposely trying to speak more calmly this time. "Hermione. I know you're full of good intentions, but don't you see? You have no evidence either – not to mention while reporting the incident you'd have to explain why you were out in the habitat without permission while under my mentorship. It would only make matters worse for me, but then..." He stopped to heave a great, sad sigh. "Actually, it's becoming hard to see how things could get any worse. I see no way out, no matter how long I put off the inevitable. My work here is probably done. My life's work may be done as well. So...go ahead...if you feel the need to report it, then you should. But don't say I didn't warn you that those in the Ministry of Magic watch everything and once you've made an accusation against one of them or theirs, you may not be able to dislodge their grudges and prejudices for a very, very long time."

"One of them or theirs?" she quoted. "You mean Dr. Nardstone and Dr. Voyde, don't you? Did you know they were related?"

Dr. Null smiled a bit wistfully. Hands in his shorts pockets now that he'd slung the camera strap over his shoulder, he kicked at a pebble on the ground as he spoke. "You know, sometimes you can become so absorbed in your work, you somehow miss little things that turn out to be very big things in the end. I suppose that's what I get for being outside of the Ministry circles for so long on location for my studies. I really thought that was what scientific studies were supposed to be about—the research, the science. But it seems it's much more important who you know and who you're related to in the wizarding world sometimes."

Null looked up at Hermione. "No, I didn't know Dr. Nardstone was her uncle. I'm sure, now that we've seen what their intentions are, that they're hiding behind his title and his reputation somehow – though I haven't a clue as to how they're doing it or why. But he's still our guest – and our connection to the Ministry as well. As ridiculous as it sounds, I can't ignore my own responsibilities in that regard until they formally charge me or pull me from the program. I – both of us – need to get some more sleep to be prepared for whatever tomorrow may bring. If you feel the need to leave here due to the violence, or the situation, or to go to the Ministry yourself, I fully understand – and I'll help you stay safe in any way I can. But please also believe me when I say I have no idea what's coming next week, or tomorrow, or in the next five minutes for that matter, so there's no way I can advise you what to do. Unofficially, I would tell you it's becoming ever more dangerous here. But, officially, I know nothing, so there's nothing I can force you to do either."

Hermione felt for the man. It was obvious Dr. Null had been watching his life's hopes and dreams crumble before his eyes ever since the incident with Flaime – and it had only got worse with time and Dr. Voyde's plans.

"Don't worry, I'm staying," Hermione said, "at least until I can try one last thing to help you. If it doesn't work out, we'll know soon enough and then I'll decide from there."

Dr. Null smiled faintly at her. "Please don't get yourself into trouble on my account. You're young, you have a lot to consider before you make a wrong move. Besides -- right now it feels like it would take a ruddy miracle to save this place and my work with the Yeti."

Hermione tried to cheer him with what little hope she had left herself. "I don't know that I can save anything. But I won't leave before I make one last try, you can be sure of that."

"Thank you, Hermione," Null said earnestly. "I know it's not easy assisting me, but you've done one bang-up job of it. I just wanted you to know in case you change your mind and leave. If ever, after this fiasco, I manage to put together some semblance of a reputation, any Letters of Recommendation will be sterling. Oh - and we'll just leave out those few little lapses in good judgment, like taking a twilight stroll or two alone in the habitat."

"Thank you, sir," Hermione said.

A faint rustle in the bushes startled them from their conversation.

"We'd better go," Dr. Null said. "I know most of the handlers came into camp and headed for their quarters earlier. Plus the Yeti have been so quiet the past few hours I'm sure it seems a bit unusual. There should still be one guard on duty in the camp now, though; it could be very dangerous for us to be seen out here, and especially for you to be seen in conversation with me at this time of night even coming from here. We'll head for the gates, but you go through the lab building first and do what you can to get quietly back to your quarters. I'll do the same, but I'll leave a few minutes after you've gone."

The rustle in the brush became louder and Hermione couldn't help but look in that direction in hopes of seeing which Yeti it might be – though, oddly, it didn't sound large enough to be a Yeti at all. It struck a chord in her mind that Dr. Null was right -- someone might be most interested in the fact that she was reporting what she'd seen, especially if the zoolowizard might have otherwise missed it.

The walk out of the habitat was uneventful, aside from the fact that Hermione had noticed the birds were beginning to stir with the very faint lightening of the sky to the east. Her head ached with the weight of everything that had happened throughout the night. It occurred to her that she had yet to sleep before she faced a full day of trying to make last-minute arrangements to get a half-destroyed food shipment to the Ministry before she took leave of this place. The temptation to go sleep for most of the day and not worry about keeping up appearances that this was just another workday crossed her mind. But she'd already promised Dr. Null, and intrinsic in that promise was an unspoken vow to the Yeti to help them too...

_>>>ES_

From the far door of the lab building, Hermione mentally mapped out a path that would take her far from the half- sleeping guard who had stationed himself at the front door to the commons. _Probably had poor Tulip up all night making coffee and serving him food,_ Hermione thought disgustedly. In fact, she could see stacked at the side of his tilted-back chair on the front stoop, a pile of dishes and cups that had no doubt kept Tulip up for most of the night right along with him. _Pigs,_ she thought, having trouble thinking of even one redeeming act she'd witnessed from any of the handlers.

The loud snap of a twig behind her shocked her from her thoughts. She knew better than to turn and give notice that she'd heard it. Listening ever more carefully though, she continued her chosen path in hopes that it might have been some kind of nocturnal animal returning to the habitat after raiding the commons rubbish bins.

But there was definitely something there behind her. It reminded her far too closely of whatever had been rustling in the brush while she and Dr. Null were at the Feeding Station. She could feel it now that she was paying attention. Her heartbeat quickened, she moved along more rapidly, trying to reach inconspicuously toward her back pocket for her wand. An occasional rustle or crunching of leaves told her now it was either something very large or...

Another loud snap and its aftermath suddenly made her sigh in relief, though only to herself. Thank Merlin she'd recognize those sounds anywhere –a smile played across her lips as she planned her next move.

Waiting until she was in an area open enough that whatever was behind her would have to reveal itself to follow, she reached back. Wheeling around suddenly and whipping her wand out to point it at whatever had been behind her, she whispered only loud enough that the sleeping guard could not possibly hear her from this distance.

"_Petrificus Totallarum!"_

Clapping a hand over her mouth at the sight before her, she had a terrible time stifling a full-on laugh out loud. The sight of one set of long legs following another shorter, but quicker set into the brush in what was obviously a head-first dive was completely hilarious. But the confirmation of her suspicions made her glad she'd purposely changed the incantation on the Full Body-Bind Spell to render it harmless just in case.

Since there was no further response from her two best friends who had dived into the bushes, she decided to continue the game a bit further and waited for them to get much closer behind her before she began to talk softly to 'herself'.

"Surely Harry and Ron, those great _gits,_ would know it was completely unnecessary to follow me because any _good_ friends would know perfectly well that I can take care of myself." Since they were now within a few meters of the back of her cabin and out of earshot of anyone or anything else, she rapidly turned and ran at them while they were thoroughly engrossed in staring toward the camp proper to make certain nothing would spot them.

Startling them both once they faced forward and saw someone hurtling at them, Hermione purposely charged into the front of Harry and Ron, causing them all to grab one another's arms to stay upright and burst into fits of snickers and stifled giggles. Pushing and shoving gently and playfully, the three friends worked their way onto the porch of Hermione's cabin. They tumbled through and Spell-Locked the door before collapsing in various places in the room with the sort of laughter that was necessary when the world around them got too tense and tough to bear.

Once things had quieted a bit and Hermione was momentarily staring at the ceiling from where she'd landed sprawled in laughter on the bed, two distinct and compelling thoughts entered and stuck in her mind. One was that she was going to need a few hours of sleep to relieve the exhaustion beginning to lay itself heavily upon her. The second was the overwhelming thankfulness and wonder at how she'd ever got along without Harry and Ron for the first eleven years of her life.

_>>>ES_

There were fingers on her bare ankle, she was quite certain. Awakening enough to realize how unlikely that was, she concentrated on the feeling again without opening her eyes. No...no...those were definitely fingers...attached to a large, warm hand that wrapped around her ankle and seemed to be rather half-heartedly rubbing and shaking at her foot to get her attention.

Hermione sighed loudly, resigning herself to the fact that she'd have to wake up fully to find out what was going on. She moaned in resentment, pulling the blanket up around her chest and pushing herself into a sitting position. Her bare foot stuck out below the end of the blanket and over the edge of the bed – and it was there that the hand gained access from the end of a long, freckled arm.

"Ron," she whined sleepily. "What are you _doing?"_

"Ubat the beeper sputz," Ron mumbled into his leather jacket pillow without waking.

This looked to be too much effort. She considered falling back on the bed and leaving the hand where it was just to get a few more hours of sleep. If Ron had in some way violated her ankle, she could better deal with it later when she was awake. Then the rubbing and shaking began anew.

She sighed. "Ron!" she said more emphatically, lightly slapping at his fingers.

"Aughh!" he responded, fully awakening in surprise, then relaxing a bit once he found it was only her smacking him. He blinked up at her from the floor with impossibly heavy eyes, released her ankle, and used the same hand to point lazily at the window with the shades still drawn. "Looked earlier. Sun's way up now, 'erminee. You s'posed to be somewhere?"

"What?" she said irritably. _"What?" _she said more loudly, blinking herself awake.

Hermione threw herself out of bed and toward the window. She pulled the shade away and immediately squinted at the brightness of the day.

"Oh god!" she said, beginning to panic. "The mail! I'm late!"

Flying into the loo, Hermione quickly yanked on a clean shirt and smoothed the rumpled walking shorts she'd apparently fallen asleep in the night before. Throwing water on her face and drying it, then quickly dragging a brush madly through her hair, she launched herself over the bed and into the desk chair to pull on socks and tie on her boots.

"Sorry," she mumbled to Harry as she bumped his sleeping body while trying to walk the narrow line of empty floor between her two best friends. Ron had gone back to sleep too after finally managing to awaken her.

"Oh..." she moaned after looking at her shorts again by the bureau. "No time to talk, Pig," she whispered then after the little owl awoke and fluffed himself, then swiveled his head to face her. She grabbed her wand and quickly pointed it to do a quick Un-Wrinkle Charm on her shorts and a BrushMeQuick!Charm on her teeth _(my parents would **kill** me if they knew! _she thought). Wand into the pocket and _– hair!_ She noticed her bushy, brushed hair fluffing back into her face just in time to grab a rubber hair band and dart out the door.

From the stoop she was surprised to see a great deal of activity in the center of camp again. A number of people were back at the Portkey site and several more were making their way towards it, including Dr. Null, who looked tired and drawn but determined even from a distance.

Hermione briefly thought that perhaps the mail ought to be her first priority so that she could make certain the Space Dislocation window was kept open for a possible burning food delivery to the Ministry later that day. Somewhere in the few minutes before they'd all fallen asleep earlier this morning, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had decided that in spite of what had happened, she'd probably be safest just carrying on with her duties until later in the day when they could make the attempt to accomplish everything they had planned the night before: ship the half-burnt food to the Ministry, make their way back through camp, get the motorbike and Fred's broomstick in the habitat, and be gone from this place. But she had to continue on as if nothing had happened, so as not to make anyone suspicious. Harry and Ron intended to shadow her whenever they could to make sure she was safe (though of course she had insisted that was not at all necessary).

She intercepted Dr. Null about thirty meters from the Portkey site. "What's going on?"

"You'll never believe it," he said rather coldly. Obviously, his morning was going no better after sunrise than it had before. "They should have warned us this Ministry visitation was some type of family reunion. Now it seems another of Dr. Voyde's relatives is showing up - her half-brother, half-sister, half-uncle – something."

_How stupid,_ Hermione thought. "But I need to get the –"

"Mail?" Null interrupted shortly. "Later."

She and Dr. Null had reached the group that was more or less circled at the Portkey site by now, but Hermione hung back behind the zooliwizard. Continuing to fuss with her clothes, she adjusted her belt and re-tucked her shirttails since her hasty preparation and exit had left her feeling as if she was only half-dressed. Grabbing the rubber hair band from her pocket, she looked down and leaned forward a bit to gather her hair behind her head and tried to force its mass into the tiny elastic circle. As she worked, she felt those around her suddenly begin to mumble and move and she assumed that whatever Voyde relative was coming was materializing on the pad at that moment.

"Welcome to Trapperton, dear," she heard Dr. Voyde coo in her most saccharine voice.

_Ergh,_ Hermione thought. _Wonder how criminal this one is? What could be their piece of this gruesome plan...? _She reflexively waited to hear the response of the new guest.

And it came.

_Hem, hem_.

Hermione froze. Her face went immediately hot and her stomach felt as if it had plummeted straight to the ground. _Oh, god-- **no!**_

Peering cautiously around the lab-robed arm of Dr. Null, Hermione watched with dread as Dolores Jane Umbridge stepped daintily from the Portkey pad and appraised the crowd before her.

_>>>ES_

Tonks waved her hand in front of her nose to divert the steady stream of smoke billowing from the pipe of the wizard next to her. Whatever it was that he was smoking smelled positively lethal. Though she'd already waited nearly fifteen minutes in the long queues for the lifts from the Atrium in the busy morning rush, she was pleased when it was his line that stepped forward.

Sighing and resigned to the fact that she was going to be late for her meeting and in trouble again, she took a moment to scan the crowd and see if any of her colleagues were going to be late as well. Somehow it never felt as bad that way.

Although she didn't find any of her co-workers, she did indeed spot a familiar face in the crowd four lines over. There, politely enduring and nodding to some ranting conversation from the crotchety old witch in front of him, was Arthur Weasley.

_Poor man,_ Tonks thought, _probably gets in far too much practice at that from home._ As much as she loved Molly Weasley, she also knew the woman had her moments.

Making a snap decision to rescue him, and possibly get a question of her own answered in the process, Tonks began to excuse her way through the irritable crowd.

"Wotcher, Arthur!" she exclaimed loudly. She'd try to be polite to the crotchety witch, but if that didn't work, she knew she'd have to just barge right in anyway. "Pardon me, madam. So sorry to interrupt, but I've been trying to find this gent and give him a mean talking-to for some time now."

The old witch tutted and huffed, but turned around and faced forward nonetheless.

Arthur breathed a quiet sigh of relief. "Bless you, dear. I rather thought my ears would fall off before she was finished," he whispered.

Tonks smiled. "Ah, but you thought I was taking the mickey when I told her I needed to speak to you. Not so, I'm afraid. So you may be just as bothered with me by the end."

"Never by you, Nymphadora," Arthur said. "What's so important?"

"Harry, actually," she said quietly, adjusting her stance so that the scrolls the person next to her held weren't poking her in the side.

Arthur looked a bit alarmed. "Harry? What – is everything all right?"

"We think so," she replied. "But he's been inside the house a few days – wizard flu, we believe—" Noting the fact that several witches and wizards around them seemed far too interested in what she had to say in spite of the fact they were determinedly trying to look involved in their own business, she stopped. "Seem to be lots of big ears around here-- have a few minutes to spare?"

Arthur seemed to understand her concern. "Certainly. We don't seem to be making much progress anyway. Let's go."

Tonks stumbled once or twice and trod on the feet of several people in the crowd as she and Arthur stepped from the queue and walked toward the fountain in the center of the huge room. There was more space there as few people seemed to feel comfortable standing very close to the monstrosity even now.

Tonks briefly explained to Arthur what she and Moody had heard over the past few days. "I don't want to bother Harry if he's under the weather, but I'd like to make sure he's all right. Do you know – has Ron heard from him?"

"Well, it's rather doubtful, actually," Arthur said, looking a bit perplexed. "But I don't really know. Oddly enough, our Ron seems to be away on a business trip with Fred for a few days – or so his note and George have said. But we could call George through the fire at the shop and see if he's heard anything."

"How about now?" Tonks asked, anxious to truly know if Harry was ready for visitors. Of course she'd be starting watch duty there on Privet Drive this afternoon, but she'd much rather go in armed with the knowledge that she'd be welcome if the Dursleys would let her in to see him, rather than just barging in as she was so famous for doing. Besides, if she got information on Harry, it just might strengthen her excuse for being late to that Auror's meeting.

Laughing, Fred wandered through the doorway into the back of the shop with a covered tray of live bed bugs. "Just think of the things these little buggers have seen, eh, Geo—DAD!"

Startled by the sudden sight of his father's head in the fire, he tried to recover his composure quickly. "Dad! Wow. What a nice surprise! I had no idea you were coming...no idea..."

"Hello, George," Arthur said pleasantly. "Didn't mean to give you a fright. How are things going at the shop, son?"

His mind churning away, Fred quickly set the bed bug tray down on the large table in the center of the room so as not to drop it. Though the shop wasn't yet open for the day, the commotion at the front of the store told him there could be trouble if he didn't let everyone there know they had a visitor in the back. "We're fine. I mean, Howard and me – that's who I mean by 'we'. We're fine, _DAD!_ How are you, _DAD! _It's good to see you,_ DAD!"_

Arthur smiled. "Your Floo connection works perfectly well, son. There's no need to shout – I can hear you quite well."

That was precisely what was worrying Fred. "Oh. All right then—"

"What did you say, Fred!" George shouted from the other room. "Can't quite hear you with these honeybees buzzing—"

Fred was alarmed to see the curious look on his father's face.

"Is that your hired help – Howard, is it?" Arthur asked in amazement. "What a booming voice for a little fellow like that!"

"Yes, yes..." Fred stalled. "He's quite the talker, that one--"

"Fred? Cat got your tongue? Here kitty, kitty..." came more teasing shouts from the other room.

"Fred?" Arthur questioned, chuckling a bit. "Still gets the two of you confused then, does he? Makes me feel better about confusing you, I suppose, even if I am your father..."

Fred was beginning to feel just the slightest bit stressed. He also felt the slight tickle of perspiration breaking out on his brow. A few more words, then four, maybe five strides by George on the far side of that door, and all of their work to liberate Harry would be for nothing.

"Oh, look!" Arthur said pleasantly. "There he is now!"

Fred's heart jumped into his throat. He couldn't bear to look. "Dad, we can explain – honest –"

"Fre –" Howard started, then his eyes riveted to the face in the fire.

"Hello there, Howard!" Arthur said cheerfully.

"H –Howard?" Fred repeated, finally able to move and turn to see the part-fairy finish swooping through the doorway. "Oh – Howard! Yes! This is our dad, Howard – mine and _Fred's!"_

Howard held up a chubby hand in greeting and spoke rather unintelligibly around his cigarette butt 'cigar', his wings flapping nervously. "Pleased, I'm sure." His eyes darted first to Fred's with a meaningful look, then behind him into the front room.

"You know, Fred," came the voice from the other room, that Fred now realized was coming closer, "this bug supplier is much better –"

Fred turned his face away from the fire so that his father couldn't see._ **"Do something!"**_ he mouthed silently to Howard, who seemed at a loss for what to do on such short notice.

Fred moved closer to the fire to obscure his father's view of whatever was going to take place behind him. "So what can I do for you, Dad? Did you need something, or is this more of a social call? We'll have to be opening up soon, so we're in a bit of a rush."

"—the bugs are much bigger and there aren't as many dead ones –" came the voice, even closer now.

"Oh, oh yes, of course. Is that still _him?"_ Arthur asked after apparently hearing the sound of the voice, perplexed. "Oh, well – never mind that. Nymphadora Tonks is here with me now and it's really her question I need to ask."

Fred looked out of the corner of his eye enough to see Howard frantically scanning the shelves, then seizing and flying off with a large sheet of Stick'em to Tick 'Em Fly- and Peoplepaper.

"—'course, we do _need_ some of them dead –"

"Yes, Dad?" Fred asked, trying to cover the voice and the view. "A question? You had a question?" He heard a scuffle behind him at the doorway to the front room and knew, just knew that George was standing there by now. Peeking back a moment, he saw Howard fly full force into George's face with the sticky paper, effectively muffling every word his twin said.

"Have you heard anything from Ron, or Fred?" Arthur asked.

Unintelligible shouts and protests came from behind Fred now. "No – no – haven't heard a thing. Everything must be going just fine, they haven't called in once – well, aside from letting us know they arrived all right." Fred knew that would be the next question if he didn't jump in and answer it first.

"Word is that Harry's ill, and Miss Tonks was just wondering if you knew –" Arthur said, stopping when he seemed to hear an especially loud round of smothered shouts, then craning his neck to see around Fred. "I say, is he quite all right back there?"

Fred glanced back quickly to see George trying to shout with a face fully covered in flypaper and a part-fairy yanking as heartily as he could from mid-air on the back of his shirt to drag him from the doorway into the front of the shop.

"Oh – yeah –" Fred started, trying to cover the smirk, "Howard makes those strange noises all the time – rather a quirk of his, you know? You get used to it."

"Oh," Arthur said, still looking a bit concerned. "All right, then. Well – have you heard anything about Harry – or the wizard flu perhaps?"

"No, can't say as I have," Fred said. "Sorry to hear Harry's feeling under the weather. Wizard flu, eh? Poor bloke. Maybe we'll pop round later if the shop's quiet enough. Howard and me, I mean. You know – that 'we'." He cringed. Bah! He'd done it again. He wasn't used to having George gone – or well, himself gone. Damn, this was confusing when there was only one of them here – in two bodies.

"All right, son," Arthur said. "Thank you anyway. Miss Tonks goes on duty with Mad-Eye at noon today, so perhaps she can check on him then and let us know, too. Do stop by for dinner if you don't feel like eating alone. Your mum and I would love to have you."

"Thanks, Dad," Fred said, eager to have this over with. "We'll see how things go later."

With a 'pop!' Arthur's head disappeared from the fire and Fred let out an enormous sigh of relief. "That was close," he mumbled. Taking a deep breath, he turned and started for the front room, speaking as he walked. "George, I think we've got a little visit to pay this afternoon – and this time _you _get to play someone. How do you feel about being the famous Harry Potter?"

_>>>ES_

Oddly enough, all Fred heard from George were some words that, even though they were muffled, sounded quite obscene.

"So, George..." Fred said, stepping onto the sidewalk. "Ready to earn that BWAFTA?"

Fred peered down Privet Drive, straining to see just how many of what type of bird was hiding in the trees. Some of them, he knew, were Dumbledore's spies.

He, George, and Howard had Apparated a good way down the street so as not to disturb the wards and Protection Spells Dumbledore had set up to guard Harry. The twins were also quite aware they would be unable to use magic, not only because they were in a Muggle neighborhood, but because anything would set off the Order alarms. There really was a plan in place now for this afternoon, dodgy as it was; when they had first struggled to find a way to break Harry out, little did they know they would later have to sneak another 'Harry' back in.

All Fred heard from the bushes was a round of cursing. "Now, now, George. Play fair. Not only did I have to donate my wand and broomstick, I did my bit this afternoon..."

"Yeah," the bush that sounded like George answered. "But that was only fooling Dad. How hard could that have been?"

Fred frowned in thought. "Well, it seemed tough at the time, however...you may have a point. But just look at it this way. It's you who has to step up and face the real challenge here. Yet we have faith, don't we, Howard? We know you can do it. Espionage, remember?"

Howard flicked ash from his cigarette butt just as a slight breeze blew it onto George's shoulder below where he hovered.

"Espionage, my mugwump's arse," George complained, brushing the ash from himself before he pointed threateningly at the part-fairy. "And _you!"_

Howard jumped back a bit in the air – as far as he could without hitting a large branch inside the bush.

"You stay away from me, you hear?" George said irritably, rubbing his cheek. "Must have been five layers of skin that fly- and peoplepaper took off."

"Sorry," Howard mumbled and stuck the cigarette butt back between his yellowish teeth.

"It's all right, Howard," Fred said. "He'll get over it in a day or two. Point is, you did what you had to do and I thought you did a right fine job." Fred scanned the area to make certain there would be no one to overhear. "Right, so remember you'll need to stay hidden in the brush, George, while we move down the street – you too, Howard. I'll just stroll down the sidewalk and find Tonks to distract her. Then you'll only need to watch for Moody while you climb the trellis up to Harry's room –"

"_Only_ need to watch for Moody?" George said. "With his how many eyes going in how many different directions?"

"Look, I'll take them both on if I can get them together – all right? Now come on – let's go." Fred started wandering slowly down the street, trying to stay aware of George's slow progress along the same route through the bushes. It wasn't long before he saw a girl with long, dark brown hair sitting at an oddly misplaced trolley bench in front of the house next to Harry's aunt and uncle's. He was quite certain there hadn't been a trolley bench there before. That had to be Tonks.

"I see her," Fred whispered. "But no sign of Moody. Go ahead and start for the trellis. I'll cover you."

Fred wandered over to stand in front of Tonks where he could get a good view of the front of the Dursley's home. Making small talk with her at first after interrupting her novel-reading, he watched as George crossed the open area in the yard and climbed several feet up the trellis. She only tried to turn around twice during the conversation, and he managed to bring her attention back by questioning her on what Remus Lupin was up to these days.

George was nearly halfway up the trellis with Howard no doubt hiding somewhere, when the first sparrow started to take interest in what George was doing. It flew down and started diving to buffet George about the head with its tiny wings. George successfully ignored this, but soon three or four more sparrows joined the first and it appeared that he might soon have trouble holding onto the trellis while still batting at angry sparrows.

Fred was beginning to believe he might have to step in and do something else when he saw a round blur of wings and body shoot from somewhere below George and start diving amongst the sparrows itself. At first, he wasn't certain, but at a slowing point just before he dove again, Fred's suspicions were confirmed and he smiled.

_Give 'em hell, Howard!_ he thought. Even if the sparrows were Dumbledore's allies, and meant to help keep Harry from harm, no one should have the right to hold Harry hostage his whole life. Howard swooped and dove, distracting the sparrows and making such a pest of himself that eventually they got angry with him, forgot George, and flew off behind the part-fairy in an attempt to drive him away.

"Something funny?" Tonks asked just as Fred watched George disappear through Harry's bedroom window.

"Just ruddy birds divebombing something," Fred said as Tonks swung around and stared at the house front in alarm. "They're gone now."

Tonks frowned, apparently frustrated that she hadn't seen which birds they were. "Oh."

"Well, I don't have too much time away from the shop, so I reckon I ought to get on with what I came for," Fred said. "Heard anything from Harry since this morning?"

Tonks shook her head. "No, I'm afraid not."

"We'll find out in a few minutes then," Fred said, preparing to set off for the front door. "I take it Harry's aunt and uncle aren't any more keen on the idea of us being around than they used to be?"

Tonks smiled and shook her head. "Can't say as they are – no. No welcoming mat for our sort at the front door, but if you _do_ make it up to see him, tell him I'm coming up a bit later as well - no matter what they say."

"I don't see how they could refuse such sweet and gentle intentions," Fred said sarcastically, and took a few steps in the direction of the front door before he turned. "Tonks, you know what? Why not come up with me now? Much too nice out today for there to be much danger for Harry about, and I'm certain Mad-Eye could hold off impending doom for ten minutes or so while you come for a visit. Hell, he'd probably enjoy it."

Tonks shrugged and stood. "All right, then. I suppose a short visit couldn't do any harm. Still protecting Harry – just from a shorter distance."

The two of them crossed the yard and climbed the steps together. Fred looked all around the edge of the door and finally spotted the round silvery little button to push to make that strange chiming noise inside. A minute later he could hear footsteps from inside the house coming in their direction, just before the door swung open.

A woman Fred recognized as Harry's Aunt Petunia quickly pushed the pleasant, welcoming look from her face once she saw them and replaced it with an ugly, suspicious scowl.

"Yes?" she asked shortly.

"Good afternoon," Fred started. "This is the lovely Miss Tonks, with whom I'm sure you're already familiar—"

Fred had never seen such an odd combination of a forced smile and a sneer in his entire life as Petunia Dursley gave Tonks at that moment.

He cleared his throat and went on. "--Perhaps you remember me—"

Suddenly a small car careened from the street, bumped over the edge of the curb, and squealed to a halt in the driveway. The three of them were startled enough that conversation was effectively suspended until the car was stopped. Harry's Uncle Vernon had to squirm and push to emerge from the car, but seemed in no hurry to do so, in great contrast to his recent arrival...

...Until he saw someone strange at his front door.

"You! You there!" Mr. Dursley shouted, charging towards them and turning purplish right away, probably just from the fact that there were some of 'those' people on his front stoop. "You with the ginger hair! Aren't you that _Ron _fellow? What is it that you want?"

Fred didn't miss a beat. "Ron? Oh, no no. _Heavens _no! Ron's my little brother. Quite the git, though, isn't he? I'm his charming older brother, Fr –" Fred quickly realized his mistake and coughed loudly to cover it, "-- George. I mean you probably remember us both, perhaps. Fred and George – Weasley—we're twins, remember?" Fred was tempted to remind the purple-faced man of their first momentous meeting, but he wasn't sure which lovely memory to bring up: the Dudley Ton-Tongue Toffee Event or the time that a profusion of Weasleys had burst through the wall from the fireplace to destroy the Dursleys' living room. Thinking, he opted for neither. "But Fred's off on business now, you see. Pleased to visit with you again, I'm sure," Fred lied. "Miss Tonks and I are here to see Harry."

"He's ill," Mr. Dursley stated firmly. "I don't believe he's receiving guests - and I know we're not!"

Fred was considering what to do next when his attention was drawn by something at the window of the neighbor's house across the street. From the movement of the window blinds it was obvious someone had been standing there watching the proceedings, and probably still was. Turning to face the neighbor's window straight on, Fred flashed one of his most dazzling smiles and began to wave with great, broad strokes of his arm, sure to attract the attention of any other neighbors or passersby in an instant.

Mr. Dursley turned to see who Fred was waving at, and immediately began huffing and blustering nervously. "Oh, that dreadful, nosy Mrs. Pilkey! And she'll tell half the world..."

Fred was pleased this was working so well. "Actually, we were aware that Harry was ill – that's why we came. See, the worst that can happen to us wizarding folk is that we're feeling badly for a few days like Harry is. But we were trying to help all of you, knowing you certainly wouldn't want to treat him yourself--" Fred gave Vernon a grave look of concern, "—what with the possible consequences to, well, non-magical folk like yourself and your lovely family..."

"I'll thank you not to use that foul language in my home! There is no such thing as _magic _or_ wizards!"_ Vernon huffed. Taking in Fred's expression, he was obviously fighting himself not to worriedly ask the next question. But he apparently couldn't resist. "What is it you think he's got, anyway?"

"Pardon me, ladies, this is not for gentle ears such as yours," Fred said, taking a few steps aside with Vernon, showing what he hoped was a very convincing look of concern, and speaking in a hushed voice. "It's been going around a bit, and – well, we're afraid he might have the dreaded...Yellow-Feathered Hurlitis..."

Vernon's eyes flew open wide and he gasped, blurting out, "Yellow-Feathered Hurlitis-!"

"Shhh! Shh!" Fred said, holding a finger to his lips and looking around. "Keep it down. The proper quarantine authorities have been notified and you wouldn't want anyone to hear you. We don't want to start a panic in the neighborhood, now do we?"

Trying to make a decision in favor of doing something he most likely didn't want to do, Mr. Dursley spent several minutes grunting and squeaking irritably, much like a guinea pig having a bad day. Glancing irritably at the moving blinds on the neighbor's window once more, the flustered man reached to push open his front door to allow Fred and Tonks to pass. "Just – get inside. Quickly, quickly now – and no funny business from you two."

"Oh, certainly not, sir," Fred schmoozed, allowing Tonks to step in ahead of him.

"What can we do?' Mr. Dursley asked with a great sense of urgency.

"_Do?"_ Fred asked as if the older man was a little mad. "Well, surely you and your family have already been, er...what's that Mug—er, word... _immunized?_ Haven't they?'

Mr. Dursley now seemed not only irritated and concerned, but embarrassed. "Er…no. Quite frankly, this is the first I've heard of this."

Fred gasped in mock alarm himself. "Then you must contact someone immediately if you intend to go into that room any time soon. Non-magical folk who contract this – they upchuck like that nightly, every night for years on end. Not really life-threatening, you know, but dreadfully tedious after a while, I'd wager. We will be taking Harry to our house for you soon, so with any luck, perhaps you'll avoid the whole nasty matter if you can manage to stay away." Starting to move to the other side of the room where Tonks stood staring at him suspiciously and Petunia stood tapping her foot, Fred said more cheerfully, "We'll be off to see Harry now, sir. …" Then, before starting up the stairs behind Tonks, he turned around and whispered to Vernon Dursley, "Good luck with that, sir. I wouldn't wish that on anybody."

Tonks and Fred climbed the stairs and softly knocked on Harry's door, only to be greeted by a grotesque and sickening sound on the other side. After glancing at one another, Fred reached out and gently opened the door.

The room reeked of sick and Fred watched as Tonks held her breath just to get herself to the window to open it.

"Harry?" Fred said gently. "It's me, George – and Tonks. We've just come to see how you're feeling."

No part of Harry was visible aside from a shock of messy black hair sticking out from the very top of a large mound of blankets.

"Tell me if you get cold, Harry love," Tonks said, finally seeming able to move closer to the bed. "But the odor itself in here could keep one sick for months, so I've left the window open a crack. Some fresh air ought to do you good."

"Hmmph," Harry grunted, still hidden.

"Anything we can bring you, mate? Some toast? Some water?" Fred asked. Suddenly the top half of the blankets lurched its way over the side of the bed. Fred and Tonks were treated to the gruesome sounds of retching for the next few minutes.

"That – that sounds really horrible," Tonks said. "What was it you told Mr. Dursley he had?"

"Yello – hurl – " Fred said, thinking then shaking his head. "Can't remember off the top of my head now. Damn! One of those horrifying medical names, you know?" Fred was quite aware that Tonks might well know there was no such wizard flu as Yellow-Feathered Hurlitis. "Well, and who knows, really? I've just heard that was going around."

The mound of blankets moved back to its original position on the bed, apparently emptied by now. 'Harry's' hand was now visible sticking out over the edge of the bedcovers and clutching them around his head.

"We don't want you to get all weak and dehydrated, Harry," Tonks said. "Could you perhaps take some weak tea?" Tonks reached out to touch Harry's hand in an apparent gesture of comforting, but just as she came close, mention of the tea brought about a new round of retching and he flung his head over the side again. "Oh, poor thing..." she said.

Yet Fred noticed she withdrew her hand nonetheless.

Again they waited for the worst to be over and for 'Harry' to throw himself back onto the bed. "Harry, Mad-Eye and I are outside for the duration of the night until noon tomorrow. You send – oh, Hedwig's out, is she? – well, we'll post an owl on the window ledge for you to send down to us if you need us, all right?"

"Mhrmmh," Harry said.

"It's okay, I'll stay with him a while longer," Fred said. "My mum told me I had this as a kid – for three weeks, a good nasty bout—so I ought to be fairly immune. But it is very contagious if you haven't had it, so I don't mind taking over. I'll see if I can get him to take something later."

"Oh, thank you, George," Tonks said, starting to reach for Harry again and then pulling back. "You get better, Harry. We want you back to your usual smiling self." With that, Tonks stepped quietly out into the hallway and closed the door behind her.

After Fred was certain the footsteps were gone down the stairs, he threw himself on the bed and punched the blanket mound. "That was one brilliant performance, '_Harry'_. Not that mine was half bad, either."

George threw back the blankets, pulling a stuffed toy gorilla with long, black, spikey hair from behind his head. "Bloody hell, was it hot in there! And the stench!" Then he grinned. "Was I good or what?"

Fred smiled at his twin. "Those vomit-flavored Bertie Bott's'll do it every time. What did you do? Chew up the lot of them and leave them under the bed?"

"Yeah, o' course," George said. "And choked down a Skiving Snackbox or two myself to make it convincing. But you should have seen what Harry had rigged up here all by his lonesome before we got here. That is one hellaciously devious bloke!"

"Excellent," Fred said thoughtfully. "That's the kind of good influence I like to see around our ickle Ronnie."


	26. Mad Dogs and Englishwomen

_A/N: Thanks and praise are to be heaped upon my wonderful betas, **Christina Teresa** and **Seakays**, who continue to slog through this with me, and even do so cheerfully. What would I do without them? Oh, yes – and special thanks to **Seakays** for the brilliant title suggestion – once I'm stuck for a title, it can go for **weeks!** Thank you for the nice reviews, f f .net readers **MollyCoddles, rgluvr13**, and **Mist**. Hope you enjoy another little trek through the wilds of Trapperton! NZ_

**Chapter 26 **

**Mad Dogs and Englishwomen**

**Chapter 25 Summary:**

_Leaving Ron and Harry asleep in her cabin, Hermione is finally able to rouse Dr. Null and takes him out into the habitat. It's before dawn on the morning after the Trio has witnessed Spyder's kill, but all evidence of the crime has been erased. Dr. Null admits that he knew Spyder was a killer and that it was suspicious that evidence had disappeared before also, but that he thought it had something to do with the male challenges. Hermione reluctantly tells Null what she's seen in the caves and explains that she thinks Umbridge, Voyde, and the handlers are using the communication system Dr. Null has developed to train the Yeti into being killers. Null is frustrated and saddened by the news, but he reiterates that they have no evidence. Returning to her cabin, Hermione suspects she's being followed, then finds she's right – but that it's only Ron and Harry. Hermione awakens later that morning only to find that she's overslept. Joining all in camp at the Portkey site, she witnesses the arrival of Dolores Umbridge. Tonks speaks to Arthur to see if he has any information about Harry. Fred answers their firetalk 'call', though it takes both him and Howard to keep George from ruining their 'Fred's out of town with Ron' charade. The twins realize they must visit Privet Drive to keep their plan convincing as Tonks intends to visit poor, ill Harry. George pretends to be ViolentlyWretching!Harry in Bed while Fred (as George) appeases Tonks and the Dursleys._

_ ES_

Hermione saw something plunk into Dr. Null's soup, she was certain of it. But as he hadn't noticed and didn't flinch, she took it upon herself to look around the nearly deserted commons hall. The two handlers who had recently entered were on the far side of the room, and had been engaged in constant conversation with Tulip about their lunch order for the past five minutes, so it couldn't have been them. A quick glance out the open window nearby proved fruitless as well.

She and Dr. Null were taking a short break to have a working lunch in the commons. Ever since the arrival of Dolores Umbridge in Trapperton over an hour ago, Hermione had been trying to slip away a second to go tell Harry to get out _now_ and to tell Ron that, regrettably, he'd been right. Unfortunately, she hadn't had that second to spare. Hermione had always known that the Dr. Null tended to get lost in his work, but she had had no idea that this was also the way he dealt with stress as well.

Dr. Null had insisted she stay with him, throwing himself full-bore into completing reports that Hermione knew weren't due for a week or more. At the Portkey site this morning, she'd watched as Dr. Null had been effectively ignored by not only their newly-arrived guest, but by everyone else in the camp as well. He'd stood rather helplessly watching as Dr. Voyde introduced Umbridge to Carl Smeggers, then immediately whisked her half-sister away in a flurry of chatter about all that had been done on her own project at Trapperton.

At that time, Hermione was tempted to tell Dr. Null that he was probably lucky to be left out of the loop – that meeting Dolores Umbridge was nothing that anyone in their right mind would want to do. She herself had stood silently, mostly hidden behind her mentor, keeping her eyes down so that no accidental eye contact with Umbridge would be made. _At least maybe Ron was wrong about that,_ she thought. He seemed to think Umbridge had arranged for Hermione to be at Trapperton somehow. But certainly, if that had been the case, the miserable old bat would have been watching for her. _Wouldn't she?_

Dr. Null had turned on Hermione at that moment, ordering her to quickly complete whatever tasks needed to be done with the mail, then to join him in the office in the lab building. She'd hurried off to do just that, thinking that she'd have a moment to run to her cabin and alert Ron and Harry. But then Tod had appeared just as she walked out of the Post Room (and as she'd carefully left the Space Dislocation Spell in limbo) in order to escort her immediately to Dr. Null's side.

They'd been involved in the reports ever since then. Even when Dr. Null's hunger got the best of him, he wanted to continue working through lunch. Hermione felt for the man, burying himself in his work to avoid his problems. In fact, he was so engrossed in reading over the parchment in his hand, he'd missed the soup incident altogether.

Without taking his eyes from the report, Dr, Null reached for his spoon and readied it to scoop up a mouthful of soup.

"Dr. Null! Don't!" Hermione whispered urgently, not wanting to attract the attention of the handlers across the room in any way. She reached in front of the man, grabbed the bowl, and whisked it out of his reach.

Startled, Null finally broke his concentration on the report and looked at her curiously.

"Sorry," she apologized, setting the bowl on the far side of the table and trying to think quickly. "I think I saw a fly in it... We'll have Tulip bring some more... "

Hermione wasn't entirely sure why she hadn't told Dr. Null the truth instead of making something up. Perhaps a fly was just a more sensible explanation, and for all she knew, that's what it had been – though it would have had to have been one very _large _fly.

"Oh," he said, shrugging. Then he set the parchment down between them. "Here, on this one, we'll need to re-write this page to include this paragraph on gender learning curves. Of course, we haven't had a large sample to draw from, but the initial results have to be included for later comparison purposes..."

Several weeks ago this work would have thrilled and fascinated her, especially listening to and working with research results compiled by the famous Dr. Null. But now, under the present circumstances, she found it almost impossible to concentrate –

_Smack! Thunk!_

Hermione felt something hit her bare calf under the table and fall to the floor. Leaning back slowly while trying to make it seem as if she was still listening to Dr. Null, she glanced down to see a dog biscuit lying next to the toe of her boot. _There are only a few people I know who'd resort to chucking dog biscuits..._

Hermione rapidly scanned the other parchments they'd brought along. "Well, what do you think of including this paragraph with it as well – the summary from that session you did with the twins, Foxer and Foxly – their base information is identical except for gender, so shouldn't we include their results?" She was hoping against hope that reading that entire summary and making a decision would keep his attention from her for just long enough...

Dr. Null quickly scanned the sheet, then pulled it over in front of him to re-read. He didn't seem to notice he'd laid the parchment on top of the last half of his sandwich as he read and mumbled, "Good point...good point..."

Relieved, Hermione knew just where to look. Sure enough, a tuft of black hair stuck up next to a ruffled ginger mound just over the bottom edge of the windowsill. Within moments, a pair of bespectacled green eyes became visible next to a pair of deep blue ones. Trying to nonchalantly check and see if either Dr. Null or the handlers were watching, Hermione coughed and held her left hand to her mouth as she signaled with her right for the boys to stay put. She noticed that Harry was trying to get and keep her attention for a moment, long enough to 'draw' three letters in the air with his index finger: S-O-S.

_They've found out about Umbridge somehow and they're trying to let me know,_ Hermione thought. _Good. At least, then, they'll know to be even more careful while they're out there. _She was thinking, trying desperately to devise a way to get Dr. Null to release her, when she noticed Harry gesturing wildly at her again.

Turning toward the window so that no one could see her expression, she mouthed, _"What?"_

Harry pointed to Ron, who lifted his left hand far enough that Hermione could see Pig perched on his extended index finger. _Pig? Why did Ron bring Pig out? He should have left him in the cabin. He should have – oh my god, something else is wrong—"_ There was no earthly reason Harry and Ron should even be out, much less have Pig with them unless—

Hermione pointed quickly to herself, then to the door. She gestured for them to get down out of sight, then she rapidly made a decision.

"Dr. Null, excuse me, sir," Hermione started. It took a moment, but finally he turned to look her in the face. "You know I wouldn't do this unless it was extremely important, sir – and if it's humanly possible, I'll be back to help you finish those reports, but – " She paused a moment to gain strength to go on. "Remember our discussion this morning? _Early_ this morning? And you said that if I felt I had to go that I should? I can't tell you the exact circumstances -- or it might cause more problems for the both of us. But...I... think I need to go."

"You're leaving Trapperton? Now?" Null asked. Though he looked as if someone had physically struck him, he sighed and appeared to be summoning courage himself.

"To be honest, sir, I don't plan on leaving Trapperton just yet," Hermione said, still holding on to the hope that she could help this brilliant man save his reputation and his research subjects. "But it may be later today or tonight, yes. I just don't know _when_. But I do know that I need to go take care of something right now, and I'm not sure what all it will involve. I hate to ask you to do this, sir, without you knowing what I'm talking about – but can you--? Do you think you might be able to trust me without me telling you more?"

Dr. Null looked confused. "You mean trust you by not saying anything to anyone else about it – whatever it is?"

"Yes, sir," Hermione said. "And – perhaps by telling people you haven't seen me since lunch if anyone asks, but that you're sure I'm around somewhere. You know, act like things are - normal?"

Christopher Null let a small, sad smile play around his lips. "You and some of the Yeti are the only ones in Trapperton I _can_ trust, Hermione – and I don't see why I can't spend another day or two pretending everything is normal. I've been doing that for weeks."

Hermione laid her hand on his arm and closed her eyes in relief for a moment. "Thank you, sir. And I haven't forgotten my promise to try and help. If I can-- if there's _any_ way I can – I'll make it happen."

"You're an extraordinary person, Hermione," Null said. "You'll make a fine scientist one day, should you choose. I'm not sure what you're up to here, but may you have the best of luck with it. And please – stay safe."

"You too, sir," she said, standing and heading for the door.

Once outside the commons building, Hermione rounded the corner to the north side of the building and, checking to make sure no one was watching, gestured to the bushes under the window sill. But no one followed.

She wandered casually back to the area near the window, scanning the camp for anyone interested in her activities. Luckily, there was no one nearby. "What are you two _doing?"_ she whispered at the bushes. "We can't talk out here. Let's go back to the cabin."

"Can't," she heard Harry's whisper say.

"What do you mean we—"

"We _can't,_ Hermione," Ron's whisper interrupted. "Anywhere else?"

Hermione was really beginning to worry now. What had happened at the cabin? Well, she'd never find out this way – at least, not without getting them all caught. _Hmmm...maybe the Post Room..._ "All right – on my signal— come on!"

Although there seemed to be some movement with Tod and a few of the handlers wandering around the building where the guest flats were, the activity from where the three of them watched was minimal. In fact, Hermione saw no one at all who would be able to see her and her two best friends sneak into the Post Room.

The three friends all piled into the tiny, old, rickety shack, Harry and Ron appearing to be instantly mesmerized by the shimmering waves in the center above the cement platform.

"Is that what Space Dislocation looks like from your end?" Ron asked. "I didn't think it stayed activated all the time like that, unless –"

"Yes, I intended for the channel to stay open," Hermione said. "In case we can possibly get that burning food shipment in here and back to the Ministry tonight. I requested a special setting for 'general locale' for several hours this evening—"

Ron looked as if he thought she was mad. "You aren't still thinking of trying to ship that burning food after all that's happened--"

"Why not?" Hermione sniffed. "They don't know what our plan is. Besides, it's _because_ of all that's happened to Dr. Null and the Yeti because of those...those..." She didn't want to use the word that came to her mind for the people she was talking about, "that makes me want to try and do it if we can. I'm still planning on doing it, but now with Umbridge here—"

Both Ron and Harry snapped their attention toward Hermione.

"Umbridge is _here?"_ Harry asked in surprise. Ron just stared.

Hermione was confused at their bewilderment. "Why, yes...isn't that...what—"

Ron and Harry were looking at one another by now and nodding a bit.

"That explains a right lot now, doesn't it?" Ron said.

"A right lot of _what?"_ Hermione asked.

"Tell her, Harry. Pig won't disturb the Space Dislocation from here, right?" Ron asked, moving toward the rod where the Post Owls usually waited for their mail to be collected. He watched for Hermione to shake her head 'no', then let Pig crawl from his finger.

"When we first sneaked out of your cabin this morning to come keep an eye on you, there were a lot of people wandering around, so we kind of had to lay low for a while until all of that died down," Harry explained. "We saw you on your way into the lab building with that zooliwizard bloke—"

Hermione couldn't help herself from interrupting. "I know. I wanted to come and tell you two about Umbridge because she'd just left the Portkey site, but Dr. Null is burying himself in his work now to try and forget all the horrible things they're doing to him and he had all of these reports he told me to help him with— he wouldn't let me go--"

"It's okay, Hermione," Ron said. "You were just doing what we'd talked about, trying to make things seem normal. Only thing is, around here things don't stay normal for very long, do they?"

"Anyway –" Harry continued, "we figured you were just working, and there was no way to get near you in that lab building. So we waited around outside on that far end in the bushes for you to come out -- until Ron got hungry. Then he saw that house-elf—"

"Tod," Ron added.

"Yes, Tod – well, by then Tod was doing something in the back of that building where Ron said the kitchens were-- where you were just eating-- but you weren't there yet, so he was going to ask Tod for some food for the two of you, but it was really for the two of us."

Hermione swung her attention to Ron. "You couldn't have _waited?"_

"No," Ron said defensively. "You told me Tod wouldn't tell anyone else I was here if he thought we were mates and sharing the cabin and the food and everything. You told me."

"Yes, but – " Hermione started, "—things are really strange right now. You could've--"

"If it makes you any happier, he never saw me and I never talked to him—" Ron spluttered out.

"Are you two done yet?" Harry asked impatiently, shooting death looks at the both of them. "This is what we're trying to get to, Hermione. That commons building is closer to your cabin than where we were hiding at first. When Ron went over there, he saw Pig flying around loose above your cabin. Pig had been Spell-Locked inside, so we knew something was wrong. Ron came to get me and we went to check on it. Someone ransacked the place. I don't know if they took anything of yours, but everything was all over, everywhere. That's why we didn't think we ought to stay more than a few minutes and we came to get you at lunch."

"Oh no," Hermione moaned. "But - what could they have been looking for?"

Ron and Harry glanced at one another.

"Evidence, maybe," Harry said.

"Of us – or at least of more people being in your quarters than just you," Ron finished.

"They took my rucksack, but I don't think there's anything in there to prove it's mine," Harry said. "And Ron's jacket. Lucky we got the broomstick and the motorbike out of there, really, and we all have our wands, except—"

Hermione looked back and forth between her two friends, waiting for one of them to say something. Both were staring at the floor and it appeared neither one wanted to give her the bad news. "Except what?"

"They took the key," Ron finally said dejectedly.

Hermione gasped. "The _key!_ Ron, why didn't you take it with you? You didn't have the _key?"_

"Hey!" Ron said. "It's Harry's motorbike now, why aren't you yelling at him?"

"Yes, but you're the one who's used to keeping track—"

"Oi!" Harry said irritably. "Could we possibly argue about this later so we can decide how to get out of this _now?"_

Ron and Hermione fired one last evil glare at each other before submitting to Harry's sensible request.

"Point being, Hermione," Harry said. "We can't go back to your quarters – and chances are, since they didn't find us there, they'll be out looking for us soon if they aren't already. No doubt they realize, though, that we can't get away without tripping the wards, so it's more or less like catching fish in a barrel, anyway."

Sounds of conversation and people moving vaguely in their direction suddenly silenced the three friends. They pressed themselves against the narrow wall that had no windows and was away from the open doorway so that they couldn't be seen from the main camp. Hermione, closest to the door, peeked out momentarily, then pulled her head back inside quickly, holding a finger to her lips.

From the sound of it, there was a group of people all walking together. It was difficult to catch any single conversation because several were going on at one time.

Hermione recognized Dr. Voyde's new, saccharin, just-for-"Uncle Phelix" voice as she chattered on: "...later the feeding stations...the socialization lab...the food deliveries from the Ministry...see the training rooms..."

There were the low, guttural, frequently one-syllable rumblings of Carl Smeggers, but she could discern no words...

Hermione's stomach turned again at the sickeningly sweet voice of Dolores Umbridge, who must have been talking with Smeggers or perhaps one of the handlers: "_hem, hem..._won't let them disturb our lovely lunch with their meddling...where could they go anyway?...stupid children...all in good time...around here somewhere...maybe at least she's with her good Dr. Nothing...er, Null..."

The conversations and footsteps faded until they heard a door close.

Ron looked down at Hermione next to him and whispered, "On their way to lunch? Where you just were?"

"Probably," Hermione answered. "Just a second." Again, she peered out the door to see if anyone was about. A lone handler -- Ulav, she thought – had something in his hand that looked rather like Ron's leather jacket, and he'd nearly reached the housing building for the guests. Perhaps it was Ulav that Umbridge had been talking to. "No one there now. I think they're all in the commons except Dr. Null."

"Sounds like they know we're here all right," Ron said dejectedly. "So what do we do?"

"We don't have many choices," Harry said. "Sounds like we either face Umbridge and the Ministry-hired handler goons here in the camp right now, or—"

"Don't tell me the habitat," Ron moaned.

"Ron, it's our only other choice, and the Yeti have been quiet today—" Hermione jumped in.

"That's because they're all hiding and terrified from seeing what we saw last night," Ron said bluntly, then sighed. "Yeah, I know it's our only other choice. But I don't have to like it, do I?"

"No, but... I'll take my chances with the Yeti over Umbridge and those other beasts any day," Hermione said. "Still, I wish I knew what she was doing here..."

"She came for you, I told you," Ron said.

Hermione looked just a little sheepish. "You were right that she was coming, Ron, I'll give you that. And no doubt she'd be glad to have me, if she could catch me here, where her family seems to be in charge at the moment. But she didn't come_ just_ for me, or she'd be relentless in her search of the camp right now. There's more to it than just me, than just us..."

Noticing that Ron was watching her closely, Hermione could tell that he was worried for her safety again – and likely worried about what she was thinking right now about Umbridge...

"So are we agreed?" Harry asked. "We head out to the habitat? At least we know one of us might make it out of there if we have to, assuming we can get to Fred's broom."

"Yeah," Ron said with a sarcastic tone. "And then, since we don't have a key to actually _use_ the thing, we can _throw_ the motorbike at the Yeti if they come after us, right? If they don't get too hacked off, maybe they'll just laugh themselves to death at the thought."

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione said, shaking her head.

"Anyone out there still, Hermione?" Harry asked.

She leaned to the edge of the door and looked around. "I don't see anyone. We can move through the bushes around the edge of the camp until we get to the far entrance to the lab building. Then we can head out the back door to the habitat. Dr. Null's in his office, but I think that's all – and he should be fairly easy to sneak by."

"Let's go then," Ron said.

Harry moved to the door of the Post Room, scanned the camp for anyone that might see them, and then stepped out, heading for the nearest row of hedges. Hermione followed Harry at Ron's direction, and Ron brought up the rear.

Hermione had intended to go along with what they had all decided – she really had. But it was simply driving her mad trying to understand why Dolores Umbridge had come to Trapperton. Of course, she seemed to be in on the deprivation plan, something that, sadly, seemed to be just her style – and chances were that training the Yeti to kill wouldn't bother her much either. But what was in that for Dolores Umbridge? She was related to Dr. Voyde and might get some minor pleasure from knowing that her half-sister, or whatever she was, had fooled the Ministry into funding her research program. Surely she wouldn't come all this way _just_ to take revenge on Hermione for stranding her in the Forbidden Forest. Dolores Umbridge could be petty, most certainly, but she had grander designs than that. Hermione intended to find out what they were.

She moved along slowly behind Harry, crouching especially low behind the foliage when they scared a tiny bird from its roost. _But if we get just past this row, we'll be close to the back of the commons building...And from there I could hide in the bushes along the side from where Harry and Ron watched...Umbridge and her cronies should still be eating lunch, and if they happen to be close enough to that window..._

_Harry and Ron will kill me, but I've **got** to see if I can find out more – for Dr. Null's sake, for the Yeti's sake, for the sake of any creature the wizarding world seeks to manipulate and twist for their own gain..._

She made her decision. Hearing her name in frantic whispers behind her, first in one tone, then in two, Hermione charged forward across the narrow open space between the hedge near the fence and the bushes growing along the side of the commons building. She could imagine her two best friends looking at one another in disbelief at her actions, as they had a number of times since she'd known them. _Then they'll likely roll their eyes, and shake their heads, and maybe follow..._

She made it without incident to her goal, stopping below the window through which Harry and Ron had chucked dog biscuits at her no more than an hour earlier. Two familiar, but complaining bodies slipped into the small empty space next to her.

"Are – you – _mad?"_ Ron whispered tensely, leaning into her face as she sat with her back against the wall.

"I thought we were going to the habitat," Harry said under his breath.

She looked at Ron first. "No more mad than that day at King's Cross when we first ran into that evil man beating Bruno." Then she turned to Harry. "And yes, we are going to the habitat, as soon as we're done here."

"That's the _point!"_ Ron said quietly, but emphatically. "What _are _we doing here?"

Hermione sighed. "I need information on what she's doing to take to Dumbledore, or the Order, or whoever can help. Something is terribly wrong with what they're doing to these Yeti. There's _got_ to be another reason she's here!"

"Well, I can't say I wouldn't mind seeing a little suffering headed her way," Harry said snidely. "Where's her group sitting, do you know? Close enough to hear?"

"I don't know," Hermione said, listening, "but...doesn't that sound like her?"

Afraid of being sighted if they tried to peer into the room, the three friends sat silently with their backs against the wall, trying to sort the familiar girlish voice from the rest. It was easier once Umbridge had managed to intimidate most of the rest of the group into silence. They listened to the mundane story of Umbridge's delay in getting to Trapperton, then a short conversation with Uncle Phelix took place, telling him he really needed to do something about that insolent new housekeeper. After that, the conversation turned to some boring Ministry gossip about people they didn't know, until...

"Poor sniveling Lucius Malfoy's having a time of it with his barristers trying to get him out of Azkaban," said the sweet little-girl voice. "But I really think that makes for some interesting opportunities for those of us who are paying close attention, don't you, Pamela dear?"

Dr. Voyde's soft, nasal-sounding laughter came in response, followed by Smeggers' single loud snort.

Then the girlish voice continued. "I mean to say, that leaves rather a weak spot in the ranks in my opinion. And what with that lunatic Albus Dumbledore off on some mad quest slogging around the countryside in search of Morgana-knows-what...Well, it just seems the timing is right for us – through no fault of our own. Isn't that positively delightful?" A sickening giggle followed.

"We'll get the respect that's rightfully ours, Dolly," Dr. Voyde said. "We will."

Hermione noticed that Ron and Harry had disgusted looks on their faces that coincided with the nearly overwhelming sickness she felt inside.

"Now all we have to do is prove ourselves," Umbridge went on. "And we are already so close. Of course, it's never done directly, but I can say it was communicated to me how much it was appreciated that I was able, even under the guise of Ministry 'legitimacy' as the Hogwarts headmistress, to torture that little wretch Potter."

Ron and Hermione glanced over at Harry, who stared into his lap while he tore viciously at the bark on a twig he'd picked up. Hermione laid her hand on his forearm to lend what silent comfort she could.

Umbridge was beginning to sound just a little too mad, a little too crazed even to be precisely the witch they had dealt with earlier in the year at Hogwarts. _Perhaps all that lunacy in the Forbidden Forest **did **do something permanent to her psyche,_ Hermione thought.

"This is our destiny, my dear Pamela – and to which you've contributed greatly, Mr. Smeggers," Umbridge said. "Thank you...both of you."

An unintelligible grunt from Smeggers seemed to suffice for an answer from him.

An outbreak of laughter from what sounded like two handlers broke into the conversation then. They sounded farther away, as if they must be at a more distant table and involved in a conversation of their own, but the timing of their outburst did nothing to help what the three friends had just heard.

"But is ours the first, Dolly?" Dr. Voyde asked. "The basis for it is here with us now, and we've got this huge facility to use to our benefit, but to build it in numbers that can be effective will take time. We're finding some of them are more difficult to turn than others."

"Don't worry," Umbridge said. "I believe we have _some_ time. We must make haste, but we have a bit of time. Without being in the ranks as of yet, it is difficult to gain information. We must build his trust, and the first proof that he can believe in us will be our little exercise between your first-turned Yeti and those gutless heathens."

Hermione, Harry, and Ron all looked at one another in concerned response to that phrase, as if each was trying to convince themselves they were mistaken about just who the aforementioned 'him' could be.

"I have indeed heard that he has begun the search – for armies." Umbridge spoke even lower as if what she had to say was of the utmost importance. "The rumors abound, they do. But with the aid of my well-placed little spies...Wizards like that slippery Thaddeus Sharpe – the man would do anything for the promise of an influential vote and a chance at sweet Uncle Phelix's job. But that won't be happening for some time now, will it, Uncle Phelix dear?"

Hermione heard a slobbery grunt and something that sounded like it used to be a voice.

"Miss Umbridge would be liking her pudding now?" Tulip's soft and tentative voice broke into the intensity of the conversation. "And tea or coffee, as well as?"

"No pudding, Elf," Umbridge said almost impatiently. "Just coffee for now. I'll be having my sweets outside. After such a lovely lunch, I'm in the mood for a little child-hunting – and I know just the one to satisfy my appetite, though maybe two would do even better."

"I reckon that's our cue," Ron whispered, looking rather alarmed, and moving immediately into a squatting position from sitting on the ground. "Not to mention I reckon we need to be moving _quickly!"_

Hermione and Harry followed suit and the three returned swiftly to the hedge row in the back of the commons building. They had little trouble getting to the cement stoop on the far side of the lab. Although it was a longer path to that entrance, they didn't have to cross the huge, wide open area in front of the lab building.

"What luck, eh?" Hermione whispered as she released the entrance door very gently so it wouldn't slam and echo their arrival throughout the unlit hallway. "Dr. Null's probably still in the office, which is pretty close to the center of the building, so just keep down. If we can only get to the other end of the corridor, like we did when we took the motorbike and the broom out there...After all, it worked yesterday."

The lab building was deserted save for Null. Hermione was congratulating herself that she'd been right about that. _Ha!_ she couldn't help herself from thinking. _Foiled sweet little Dolores Umbridge again. For all we know, we may be able to simply **walk** out the back door and into the habitat to relative safety._

"That light, Hermione –" Ron, who had taken the lead in the hallway, stopped just before the office. "--Is that Dr. Null's?"

"Probably," she answered. "Stay down below those windows on the top half of the wall and we should be fine. He doesn't ordinarily notice things that are right in front of him, much less someone sneaking by. Then head straight out through the end to the habitat door."

Harry willingly allowed Hermione to move in front of him so that she could better guide Ron.

Passing below the windows to the office, Hermione peeked over enough to see the back of Dr. Null's head. He was hunched over his piled-high desk, probably still poring over those reports, especially since he was now more or less on his own. _Poor man,_ she thought, ...s_o brilliant and so alone._

Ron was nearly past the office windows now and once they were more than halfway through the darkened hallway, the doors were only on their right and led to empty training rooms. They were past the mid-point now...

_**Bang!**_

A training room door flew open ahead. Suddenly the corridor was blindingly illuminated and the hulking figures of two handlers blocked the hallway between them and the habitat door.

Hermione heard Ron's and Harry's involuntary gasps along with her own. They forgot to hold their crouch and, blinking in the suddenly-bright light, they focused on Beamer and Hank before them.

The two handlers were just as surprised. But it didn't take them long. "Hey! You there! All of you!"

The men's hands halfway to their wands, there was no thinking twice. Ron, Harry and Hermione turned and fled back down the hall at top speed. Hermione could hear heavy footsteps behind them -- the zing of a cast spell whizzed past her ear and hit the window next to her, cracking it in its intensity.

_Please, please, no one come through that door ahead,_ she pleaded. With locked doors on all sides of them now, there would be nowhere to run if they couldn't go back the way they'd entered.

Another spell split the air. Harry darted left to avoid it, but it threw him off-balance. Hermione barely avoided tripping over him by dodging right, but before she could turn to help, she heard Ron slow a few beats to scoop him up and get him stabilized.

Slamming into the door at the end of the hall, they were suddenly outside. No bushes were going to hide them now -- the handlers were too close behind. This was a foot race pure and simple -- they'd have to outrun the handlers and their spells in full view of the entire camp.

"This way!" Hermione said loudly, darting immediately to the right.

Hermione, Ron, and Harry pounded along in front of the lab building now, gaining a bit more of a lead on the handlers. But they would need it. Once they rounded the corner of the building, again she'd have to hope: this time, that both gates to the habitat were open at best -- unlocked and unwarded, if nothing else. Then there were the dogs...

Beginning to panic, Hermione ordered herself to calm down, for nothing good had ever come of it when she became too frazzled.

"Oh no," she muttered, seeing that the huge gates from both the inner circle of the dog runs and the habitat were closed and appeared to be Spell-Locked. They could run no farther, at least in that direction.

"Where now?" Harry asked, chancing a look behind them.

"Oh -- I don't know," Hermione fretted as she paced, breathing hard and clutching at a sharp pain in her side. "Wait! The handler's gate, the small one!" She'd nearly forgotten the door-sized gate at the side that the handlers used when they were performing routine tasks by themselves.

Hermione pointed and Harry was closest, so he walked over and started to reach for the gate to push it.

"Wait! Harry, don't touch it!" Hermione spat out, scurrying to follow him. "If we do this and if it's warded, we may set off alarms through the whole camp."

"Do we have a choice?" Ron asked. "You have any other way to get out of this in, say -ten seconds?"

Hermione had no answer, so she quickly bent over and picked up a palm-sized rock, tossing it into the chain-link wire of the gate. Nothing happened. "Yes! Our first bit of luck – go ahead, it's not warded."

And neither was it locked. When Harry lifted the latch and pushed, the small gate swung right open. The three friends scrambled through it, finding themselves in the empty no-man's land of the dog runs. Hermione lagged behind a few feet to place a Locking Charm on the gate's latch, but she knew it wouldn't last long.

"Maybe not so lucky...listen," Ron said. On the far side of the camp, they could hear the dogs barking, probably at the realization that someone had just entered their space. It wouldn't be long until they had snarling dogs _and_ rabid handlers at their throats.

"Is there a small gate over here?" Harry asked, staring at the immensity of the huge outside Yeti entrance to the habitat.

"If there is, I don't know where," Hermione said.

"Our friends have arrived," Ron said dryly, looking behind them where the handlers had just rounded the corner of the lab building.

Hermione didn't want to tell her friends that things looked bad, but they did.

Harry was looking back and forth between the enormous gate and the fast-approaching handlers. "Let's see if this one's warded." Harry picked up a rather large, heavy branch from the ground. He turned and pitched the branch into the fence, then stepped back.

Blue and orange sparks flew from the gate, a few leaves on the now-fallen branch singed and smoldering. Hermione could hear alarms going off in all of the work buildings and over the Voluminus, the loud speaker spell for the camp. In a matter of minutes, there were likely to be a half-dozen more people present, none of them with honorable or gentle intentions.

"Hermione, I know _Impervius_ works for water," Ron said. "You think it might work for a few minutes for sparks and ward-deflection?"

Hermione was still fighting getting flustered. "I – I don't know. Why?"

"Because remember the other day? You and I slipped through the gate when JoyBoy Leif bashed it with the boulder?" Ron asked. "Maybe Harry and I together could jam the branch in to hold it open wide enough to slip through without touching... You willing to try?" He looked at Harry.

"Er, as you said...do we have a choice?" Harry said, smiling a bit

"All right, then," Ron said, taking a deep breath. "Go, Hermione." He and Harry stood still and straight for Hermione to perform the spell.

"_Impervio!"_

"I'll take this end, we'll hold it straight up to the fence until we jam it in there on three – ready?" Harry asked. "One, two, _three!"_

Harry and Ron together shoved the heavy branch into the small space between the gate and the stationary fence. Sheets of white sparks punctuated with long ribbons of blue and orange light showered down on their heads and bounced off onto the ground. Ignoring the sound of the branch sizzling where it touched the wire, they grunted as they turned it to jam the narrow opening apart.

"Oh, hurry," Hermione moaned. "They're at the gate." She could hear that the words the handlers were guessing were coming closer to the counter-spell for hers and that the dogs were just around the corner now.

"Go Harry, you first," Ron said. "Don't touch any skin to metal, whatever you do."

Harry took a deep breath, stood straight and stiff and sidestepped his way through the narrow gap without touching.

"Yes!" Ron said triumphantly. "You next, Hermione."

"No, _you_ next," Hermione said in a strange voice. While Ron and Harry had been dealing with the fence, the dogs had rounded the bend and were frantically snarling and snapping their way along the dog run toward Hermione. "I stand a better chance with the dogs than you. Hide when you get in there – it'll help me with the dogs."

"What! No!" Ron said, looking panicked.

"Go! Help me and go, _please!"_ she said as the first dog reached her. Startled as the dog ran up growling and barking loudly almost in her face, she turned and tried to grab at her wand. Hermione stepped on her own untied boot lace and fell off-balance, her knee accidentally knocking her wand from her hand to the ground a meter away.

"Little problem there, girlie?" Beamer said snidely. The sun glinted from his shiny bald head as he strolled up right behind the dogs, his own wand at the ready.

The dogs had formed a half-circle around her and Ron by now, barking and snarling.

"Attack, you bloody mutts!" Hank said. _"Attack!"_

The dogs seemed to hear the handler, but looked uncertain.

Hermione quickly scanned the group for Bruno, but he wasn't among them. Otherwise, she knew they'd back down immediately.

The foot of another dog was only centimeters from her wand. Beamer leaned down to pick it up, but the dog nearly took off a chunk of his face. He stood up quickly without the wand and backed away until he stood next to Hank.

"Right, then," Beamer said. "You two just call your little friend out here and we'll take you all to Dr.Voyde and Miss Umbridge, nice and easy-like..."

"Hey you! Little friend here! How about you tell Umbridge we're not so nice and we _don't_ go easy-like? _Petrificus Totalus!"_ Harry's incantation rang out, but Beamer dodged and Hank toppled to the ground, petrified. Beamer swung around and pointed his wand, returning the same incantation at Harry through the fence. For a few seconds, spells tore through the air between Harry and Beamer right next to where she and Ron stood.

Hermione saw Ron quickly jam his hand into his pocket, then fling it high the air. It began raining dog biscuits. Suddenly, huge canine bodies were launching into the air, diving for the ground, and snarling and snapping at one another instead of at her and Ron. Two of the dogs jumped for the same biscuit mid-air and knocked Beamer to the ground in the middle of a spell incantation meant for them.

Stunned at all the instant commotion, Hermione stood numbly staring for a second until she felt a strong hand grab hers. "Wait – my wand!" Hermione told Ron, and she paused to snatch it up from the ground before he pulled her near to the small opening between the gate and the fence.

The branch holding it open had caught fire in earnest by now and shortened; the opening was much narrower, and the flaming bough holding it open was in danger of dropping away altogether and closing on top of and around anyone passing through.

"Stay close," Ron whispered, yanking her immediately in front of him and wrapping his arms tightly around her entire upper torso protectively.

She could see nothing but darkness as she was smashed into his chest, but for some reason the scent of him and the feel of Ron surrounding her calmed her, if only a little.

"To your left..._now!"_ Ron ordered, but he didn't wait for her response. She felt herself being lifted and carried a few steps and she worked hard to get her feet working beneath her. Ron ducked his head down onto the top of hers, either to cover it or to protect his face, she wasn't sure, but it was then she heard the ominous humming sound of the wards kicking in and the crackle of sparks and violated barriers all around them. Even in the darkness she could see the blinding flashes of the orange and blue magical charges.

"Arrrgghhh," Ron moaned in a long, low, muffled cry of pain into her ear as they jostled along.

The pungent smell of charred wood, burnt hair and singed flesh assailed her nose, but a few moments later they were beyond the fence and he released all but her hand. She felt a thud on the ground by her foot; a few feet behind them the burning branch had dropped and the gap in the still-warded fence had closed to mere inches. Beamer had organized himself from the ground enough to try and get off a spell at the three of them inside the habitat. Hermione turned and readied her wand; Harry's was already lined up to fire. But just then a huge mass of black and brown flew in a blur from the side into the handler's face. Salivating, snapping jaws clamped down on the man's wand arm, and the dog started tugging him about by the forearm as he wailed.

"Bruno," she murmured just before she was again yanked away. This time Ron pulled her into the tall brush at the side of the entry clearing where the two of them had hidden a few days before.

"Are you all right, Ron?" Harry said with deep concern once they reached an opening large enough for all three of them to stand in. "You are one mad bloke for trying that."

"I've learned from the best of the mad blokes, mate," Ron said, his voice strained even in jest. "Spot-on timing with those spells, thanks. I couldn't have done it just now. I'm not sure I want to look at my arms yet...They are...just a bit painful."

"I'll keep an eye on that handler for the moment...His arms, Hermione," Harry said. "See if you can do anything. I think the rest of him made it through all right. Going through one at a time not good enough for you then?"

"Didn't think we'd both make it before the branch fell and the opening closed up...unless we did it together," Ron said matter-of-factly. "Besides, I reckoned the _Impervius_ would still be enough to protect her...er, us." Ron's ears began to blush deep red and he looked anxious to change the subject. "The dogs were working with me, though. See how I had them under control?"

Harry snorted.

It always amazed Hermione how collected the two of them could sound under even the worst of circumstances.

She turned to Ron, looking at him closely for the first time since entering the habitat– and gasped. "Is that what the ward spells did?_"_

Most of the fine reddish-blond hair on Ron's forearms had been singed off, and some of the previously improved brain scarring had been burned and re-opened; it was red, bloody in places, and angry-looking. Ron was trying not to look pained, she could tell, but she also knew him well enough to know he was hurting pretty badly.

She knew she must have had a horrified look on her face because she glanced up to find Ron watching her with an expression that was a mixture of both sadness and resignation. Quickly she turned away as her eyes filled, frantically and deliberately searching for something else to look at.

Hermione watched Harry for a moment as he visually checked on the handlers' activities through a hole in the foliage. He didn't say anything about the man, but she could still hear dogs barking and snarling and an occasional muffled yell. Harry didn't seem to be worried that anyone was coming for the moment, though, and pulled his head away from the hole to look back at his friends.

"_That's_ why I told Harry not to touch the fence wire," Ron said. "Besides -- I reckoned that even if the _Impervius_ didn't hold and I bumped the wire a little, nothing the wards could do would make the scarring any uglier. Looks like I musta bumped it quite a bit,"

Ron quipped just before drawing in air through his teeth in pain.

Seeming to have a mind of their own, her eyes were drawn once more to Ron and she fought the urge to let her gaze drop to his arms. Staring straight into his eyes, she watched his sarcastic facade drop away before she said quietly, "You did that for me? So that I wouldn't..."

But the look in Ron's eyes was so bold and straightforward and open at that moment, even through the pain, and there was such an unequivocal, wordless "yes, of course, and you know I'd do that and more again" behind them, that her words just faded away. All at once she knew she couldn't let down her guard and face that much honesty and emotion any longer – at least not here, not while she was supposed to be rational and quick-thinking, instead of thanking him in the way she wanted to just then. His eyes had said it all.

Still, she had no time to think about it, either. "I told you I think your scars will heal and disappear...eventually," Hermione said determinedly and quite clinically, though it had made her stomach ache to look at his arms before, and she privately wondered if what she'd told him was true. "I've already told you how to keep them healing – just think positive."

"I'm trying to think positive -- about the pain too, Hermione," Ron said, "but it's really hard when it hurts so much."

His voice was so odd when he said that. _Did he--? Was he talking about just his arms, or...?_ She took the chance and looked into his face once more, only to find those eyes were trying, and quite nearly managing, to stare right through her, perhaps searching for a means to see straight into her heart and find what truth he could.

"Hmmm, let me think," she said, trying to keep thinking instead of feeling and come up with a spell that would ease the pain, if only a little.

"Er...they seem to be collecting a bit of a search party out there," Harry said, back at peering through the brush and sounding a bit worried. "If we're planning on finishing your little task with the food shipment later, Hermione, we're going to have to find some place to hide. Right now."

Earlier on, she'd thought that hiding out in the habitat itself would be sufficient, because the handlers would assume no one would go there except as a last resort. Now that it had been well-advertised via the ward alarms exactly where they were, they'd have to find a much more secure hiding place.

"With friends," she said to herself. "Come on. I know where, but we've got to get past that lab habitat entrance before the handlers head out here after us."


	27. The Writing on the Wall

_**A/N: I hope that posting this and the following chapter doesn't turn out to be more of a tease than helpful in anyway. But I have just, after all of this time, found that the version of this story is missing the last two chapters written all that time ago. It only seems fair to post them here, so that all readers have equal access to the story as far as it was written, and can take heart in one thing. 'Endangered' as an unfinished epic has been bothering me more and more of late. I've been looking at it and re-reading, hoping the urge to finish it will speak to me. I'm not willing to make any promises because I hate even more to possibly break them later on, but let's just say…there is hope now where there once was none. And oddly enough, the piece below contains the final two sentences posted in the A/N all that long time ago, so since they seemed so fitting once more, I've left them:**_

_**For those of you who've been told that good things come to those who wait... **_

_**They do. ^_~) Enjoy.**__**~NZ~**_

**~ Chapter 27 ~**

**The Writing on the Wall**

_**Chapter 26 Summary:**__ Dr. Null, purposely ignored in the camp of his own scientific study with the arrival of Dolores Umbridge that day, throws himself into his work to compensate. While he and Hermione are involved in a working lunch, Ron and Harry draw Hermione away and tell her that her cabin had been ransacked while Harry and Ron were out keeping watch on her. At the very least Ron's leather jacket was taken - and the motorbike key. Hiding in the Post Room to discuss what to do next, they overhear Umbridge's discussing that she knows 'other children' are at Trapperton. Hermione is still determined to get the burning food shipment to the Ministry that evening, so Harry, Ron, and Hermione decide to try and get to the habitat as a place to hide for the day since the Yeti have been quiet. On the way to the lab building, Hermione takes off to try and discover why __**else**__ Umbridge is at Trapperton. Umbridge speaks vaguely about 'Him' building armies and that they should be out to impress him with their work – also, that after lunch, she will be wanting to'hunt children'. Hermione, Harry, and Ron head for the lab building to sneak through into the habitat, but two handlers catch them in the act. The handlers chase them across the center of camp as the Trio heads for the habitat gates. After some trouble with the wards, Harry and Ron jam a branch into the opening so they can slip through one at a time. Harry gets through into the habitat, but the dogs and the two handlers arrive at the same time, before Ron and Hermione can. A wand duel ensues between Harry and one of the handlers after another is hit with a Full Body Bind. The branch is burning away from the ward energy, in danger of falling and letting the gate close completely. Ron wraps his arms around Hermione to protect her as the two have to go through together just before the branch falls to the ground. Ron sustains bad burns on his arms, but since Voyde and her men are organizing a search party, they decide to head for a place to hide 'with friends'._

_RR_

It had taken a bit of work to convince Trey it was a good idea to let young wizardfolk into his humble abode once more. Ron, Harry, and Hermione had spent what seemed like a good long time plastered against the inside wall of the cave entrance, with Trey staring them down sternly and relentlessly. The deep scowl on the Yeti's face had told Ron the three of them should have found _some_ way to ask permission to enter the cave even if the handlers and the dogs had been on their trail and not far behind.

"Whatever you do, the two of you, don't look down," Hermione had whispered tensely, staring unflinchingly at the dirt floor. " – Or smile."

Smiling had been the last thing on Ron's mind. "Not much chance of that, I reckon. You, Harry?"

Harry had stared straight ahead, frozen in place. "Hadn't even considered smiling," he mumbled. "These Yeti are _big _when you get closer. But - why don't we want to look down?"

"Looking down is for females - subservience," Hermione answered. "But you're males. You have to save face but not be threatening. Trey doesn't know you or you could get away with more, like Leif does. But if Trey sees your teeth bared in any way, he might think you're challenging him."

Ron was mildly alarmed at that idea and wondered if he could still whisper to his friends while keeping his lips over his teeth at all times. He concluded he simply wouldn't open his mouth at all. "No, we don't want that," he mumbled. "Er, so what exactly do we do now?"

"Nothing," Hermione answered. "We wait for him to decide. It's his home – his territory. With any luck, he'll let us in. Next best is he'll just chuck us out."

"If that's next best, what's worse than that?" Harry asked suspiciously. "Or do I want to know?"

There was a quiet pause from Hermione. "You probably don't want to know."

Simultaneously, a rustle came from somewhere deeper in the cave and a yell came from one of the handlers, outside and not too far away.

Apparently startled into action, Hermione had then moved the toe of her boot very slowly in front of her and had started dragging it through the dirt to draw some sort of pattern Ron didn't recognize. Trey had watched her guardedly, but curiously.

"What's that?" Harry asked. He was trying to see it from the corner of his eye without moving his head.

"The 'help' symbol from the cards they used to communicate with us," Hermione answered softly. "It's hard to draw it upside down with my foot, though – and Trey was never one of our better students. He had rather more important things to attend to, like managing the tribe. All I know is that the handlers probably wouldn't think we'd be _inside_ one of the Yeti caves, at least not yet – but I think they would still be able to see us here where we are from outside. We need to convince Trey that he needs to let us go on into the cave - soon."

Luckily, the rustle they'd heard from deeper within the cave had been Starr. She had stepped up next to her mate, first looking curiously at Hermione and then more curiously at what the girl had drawn on the ground. She'd glanced at Ron—and then she'd noticed Harry.

Starr had gazed unabashedly between Ron and Harry for at least a full minute, then back at Hermione.

"Oh dear," Hermione had muttered, sounding as if she'd understood the problem. "Two males."

"_What?"_ Harry had asked.

"I was here with only Ron before," Hermione said, blushing a bit. "And we sort of implied – well, she probably thinks Ron and I belong... you know, together."

"Hmm," Harry replied dryly. "Fancy that."

Though Ron fully understood the reason why Hermione had said that now that he was savvy to the 'mates' thing – and that it was very necessary for them to keep up whatever charade would get them some help – Ron couldn't help feeling just a bit surprised and chuffed to hear her say the words. _And she didn't even sound like she minded the thought of it so much..._

"So she doesn't know why you're here," she said to Harry. "Or why Ron's putting up with you."

Quickly, Hermione reached out again with her foot and roughly scratched out another cryptic picture in the dirt, pointing afterwards at Harry.

"There," she said. " 'Family'. I've just made you my brother, Harry."

"Fine by me," Harry said, watching Starr's reaction. "Is she buying it?"

"We'll know in a moment," Hermione said, also staring at Starr and smiling.

Starr was still balking a little, eyeing Harry suspiciously, and Trey was still standing firmly in place.

It was taking long enough that Hermione seemed to be worried and suddenly flung her hand out to the right. "Hand, Ron."

Ron rolled his eyes in spite of himself. _At least I'm not the brother, but..._ "Please – the romance here is killing me."

"_Would_ you give me your_ hand?" _Hermione demanded through clenched teeth. "Unless, of course, you'd rather have Trey throw us out the door to Spyder. You and I can take this up later if you have some problem with it, but now is not the time!"

"All right, all right," Ron said, bridging the gap between her arm and his to grasp her outstretched hand. "But the only time you-" he grumped, his arms stinging and the crankiness getting the better of him. One sidelong glance at Hermione and her expression made him hold his tongue. He knew he sounded like he was whining, but he was hurting and couldn't help it just now. "-Never mind. But you could have just asked nicely, you know."

"Remind me next time," Hermione said. "Assuming we make it to a next time."

Then finally, with that movement, Starr had spied the wounds on Ron's skin. She walked up much closer to the two of them now, leaning down to inspect the still-oozing burns on the forearm that was now suspended between him and Hermione. Starr acted for a moment as if she was going to touch the wounds, then she drew back and held her long finger to her chin a few moments as if in thought.

Starr had turned to Trey and in Yeti-speak, had begun what must have been a plea to let the three humans into their home. Some argument from Trey and some impassioned-looking counter-arguments from Starr took place during which, oddly enough, Trey kept nodding and gesturing at Hermione as if _she_ was the problem. Eventually, Trey made one final remark, turned calmly, and walked deeper into the cave, while Starr stayed to motion them to follow her.

Harry let out the breath he must have been holding the whole time. "Finally. I wasn't sure he was going to back down there for a moment."

"A lot of it's the whole male territorial issue," Hermione explained as they walked deeper into the darkness of the cave behind Starr. "But it actually was rather strange. There was no subservience between Trey and Starr. She didn't defer to him or back down, and he didn't expect her to. He let her try and reason with him – she looked straight into his eyes - and he even let her have her way."

Ron was thinking that all sounded rather familiar. "Maybe the Yeti are a lot more like us than the zooliwizards ever thought."

Hermione turned to him at her side and looked at him oddly.

_Bugger, did I just say that out loud?_ he thought. "Er, I mean...you know... in general," Ron stammered. "Maybe the big bloke listened once and found out how smart the lady one was and how good her ideas could be, so he decided it couldn't be a bad thing to listen...once in a while."

Hermione had grimaced and rolled her eyes at that and Ron decided not to pursue the matter. He knew he certainly wasn't in a stunning mood and apparently, neither was Hermione, so he decided just to keep quiet. His arms hurt him anyway, and the requisite fire in the middle of the large cave room they'd seen before made it positively stifling.

Starr turned once Harry and Hermione had entered the more spacious room and appeared to be waiting for Ron. As soon as he stepped through the door, Starr pointed at his arms.

Momentarily, he thought something else had happened to them – that maybe his arms had begun to bleed or got worse since their meeting with the warded fence wire. But after checking, he thought they seemed pretty much the same – ugly, oozing, and even more disgusting the closer one looked. But Starr kept pointing as if he ought to understand. _Oh no...She can't be thinking what I think she's thinking.._

"Hermione," Ron said a bit nervously, keeping his eyes glued on Starr just in case_._ "What is it she's doing, Hermione? What does she want?"

Hermione wheeled around and moved to look in Starr's eyes. Starr squatted down and with one huge finger, drew something in the dirt for Hermione to see.

" 'Help', she drew- like I did," Hermione said. "Help..." Hermione muttered as she watched Starr carefully; the Yeti again pointed at Ron's arms. Hermione turned to him excitedly. "Oh, Ron! She wants to heal what the wards did!"

"Heal -? Oh no. Hold on, hold on," Ron said in resistance. "I know that Yeti ki—" Ron didn't want to be scolded again for not using the young Yeti's name – especially when he was trying to make a point. "I know Leif put your elbow back in place when it was dislocated, but that was different. As much as I hated him doing it, at least it was all _inside_ the skin. He didn't have to put his giant, grubby hands on any open wounds or anything –"

Hermione said calmly, "Her hands are no grubbier than yours probably are and I know Starr. She wouldn't ask to heal your wounds if she didn't know she could do it. I'm sure it will be fine. Trust her."

"But _you_ didn't even know the Yeti could do those things before," Ron protested. "What if it's unbearably painful or something and I pass out and I'm absolutely no help to anyone and I become a burden to you and Harry here instead of helping you two get this taken care of and get out of here?"

That scenario was too eerily familiar - too much like the night at the Department of Mysteries: being a burden, unable to help fight and get out. It was exactly what he'd been trying to fend off since then- to face it down and prove he was better than that – both to Hermione, and to himself.

A searing pain shot through both of Ron's arms and his brain, sending shock waves through his system. Even though the feelings from the thought scars were different from the surface ward burns, they were familiar; yet they startled him with their intensity and he shook his head for a moment to clear it. His vision blurred and he squinted, trying to focus and fight off the pain before it forced him to sit down.

"Ron – " a fuzzy female voice said from far away. "Ron, are you quite all right?"

It took him a minute or two to collect himself, but he managed. "Yeah – I'll be fine. Damned pains in my head...thought scars..."

"From the thought scars?" Hermione asked curiously. "That's odd. It's been some time since that's happened, hasn't it?"

Ron grimaced. "It's been a while since I thought of what happened that night at the Department of Mysteries, yeah." He looked up to see Harry and Starr staring at him curiously, then turned back to Hermione and spoke low. "Why...why can't you just heal them as best you can? I can put up with some pain - just the regular burns anyway."

"Don't be silly, Ron," Hermione scoffed. "Why be in pain when you don't have to be? Look, I'll stand right here – and if it looks like she's doing something that hurts you too much, or if you start to fade, I'll stop her. I can do that – she'll listen to me."

Ron still wasn't too excited at the prospect and sighed, turning determinedly to face Starr. "All right," he said, beginning to move his arms forward. _But what if... _He panicked a moment and looked back to Hermione. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure," Hermione said comfortingly. "And I'll be right here."

Wincing, Ron held his arms out straight in front of him and nodded. Starr looked to Hermione for confirmation just in case and she nodded, too.

Starr stepped closer to Ron, reaching out and gently pushing his left arm aside. Without thinking, he looked up to watch the expression on her face as she worked and caught her eyes with his. Immediately, she looked straight down at the ground and physically drew away a bit.

"Ron!" Hermione scolded quietly. "You can't look at her like that—"

Ron knew what he'd done before Hermione even said anything. " – Because I'm a male. I know. Sorry, sorry. Just reflex on my part, I reckon. I'll – not do it again."

"It's even worse when you're not...well...her male," Hermione said.

Ron was horrified. "Ergh! _Thank_ you for that thought," he said. "You know, all of this male/female stuff is driving me mad! It's impossible enough dealing with the wizard rules without having to start on the Yeti ones next!"

He heard Hermione mumble something under her breath that sounded great deal like "fancy that", but when he asked her to repeat herself, she simply shook her head to dismiss him.

Looking ahead at the enormous furry hands beginning to gently wrap themselves around his forearm, Ron braced himself for the worst and decided he'd rather not watch. His attention focusing more on the sensations once he closed his eyes, he noted that Starr's hands felt the slightest bit leathery, but not at all unpleasant, even where the burns were the deepest. Within moments, he would have sworn that someone was dribbling a single trickle of very warm, but soothing water under his skin somehow. Then it felt like that water pooled and spread, moving into every inch of his forearm that had taken the brunt of the ward burns. For a moment, it felt like the worst pain was going to flee into his upper arm and shoulder, but Starr somehow sensed this. She let go of his forearm with one of her hands and softly grasped his shoulder, dragging her wide fingers ever so slowly down his arm until the pain there quite simply disappeared altogether. Ron opened his eyes just in time to see the glow from the Yeti's hands subside.

"They're – they're...not stinging so badly any more," he said in amazement, but still was afraid to look. "She...sealed the wounds?"

Hermione was in a position to see Ron's arm first as Starr slowly removed her great hands. She smiled. "Yes! You ought to _see _what she did. You know, I don't think Dr. Null has any idea they can do this and I never got the chance to tell him..."

Ron finally looked to see that, even though the thought scars were still apparent, the ward burns were virtually gone. He was left with a very hot feeling on his skin, much like a bad sunburn. _God knows, it seems I've survived a thousand of those..._But he could live with that, as long as the bleeding and open oozing was gone.

Quickly, Ron offered his other arm; Starr made quick work of that as well.

"Told you," Hermione sniffed.

For once, Ron was very glad to have been wrong.

Harry had been watching the entire healing process in silent amazement as the Yeti performed it. "Wow. They'd be dead useful at St. Mungo's, don't you think? Maybe your Dr. Null could work his way back into the good graces of the Ministry by pointing that out."

Hermione thought for a moment about that. "I suppose that is a possibility. Though I can't imagine the Yeti and any kind of hospital would mix."

"First off, they'd have to rebuild the places to get them through the door, then..." Ron trailed off. He was going to make a joke about the pungent Yeti odor again, but since one of their species had just performed something close to a miracle on him, he thought better of it. "They'd all have to talk in pictures, though."

"Well, that's only the very first attempt, Ron. Dr. Null's system is very rudimentary, yes – he may come up with something more advanced later when they're ready. Obviously, their own language is much more complex. But...speaking of teaching them to communicate..." Hermione said, scanning the wall for the paintings, finally spotting them, and turning Harry in that direction. "Look, Harry. Remember when we told you about the paintings the handlers made in their caves to brainwash them into killing? They're right over there."

Shaking his newly-healed arms out a little, Ron watched her cross the room with Harry. She squinted and a concerned look crossed her face. "Ron. They're different – and there's loads more of them. The handlers have been in to change them."

Ron was distracted by a movement to his right and he noticed that Starr was trying in vain to get their attention and motion them to follow. She appeared anxious to lead them down another short, dark rock corridor, but she turned to look back and seemed very uncomfortable again when she saw where Hermione was headed.

Harry and Hermione crossed the large room, Ron following with an ever-increasing sense of dread. Hermione was right. The pictures had been changed – and not for the better. The closer he got in the dim light, the more clearly he saw that the first "Yetis kill" pictures had been left as they were. But the rabbit, or whatever it was that had been a shapeless mass before, had been replaced.

Hermione gasped loudly, and ahead of him he saw her draw her clenched fist to her mouth in shock as she stared at the wall. She fell off-balance a little, bumping against Harry; he grabbed her elbow to gently set her back upright and hold her steady.

In the place of the proposed victim now were a number of larger pictures, crudely drawn pictures that had horse's bodies – and human-like heads. Centaurs. _Of course!_

"How could I not have thought of it before?" Hermione said numbly. "Horses...and Umbridge. She's - they're - trying to train the Yeti to kill horses so they can wean them to Centaurs."

"That's what all that means?" Harry asked quietly.

Ron felt queasy – even more so than he had from the pain of his arms. "Those people are just so – mad – and _sick."_ He thought he ought say more, but he had no idea what.

Stunned, Ron wandered down the wall a few meters, looking more closely at the grotesque drawings until he saw it. Instantly, he gagged; for a moment he was thankful it had been so long since he'd eaten, because had it been recently, he would have lost every bit of it then and there. He turned back quickly, retracing his few steps, and tried to hustle Hermione and Harry away from the wall.

"Come on," Ron said. "I think the Yeti female...er, Starr, is it? – She's waiting for us over there." He grabbed Hermione's free elbow and tried to steer her away.

"How many are there?" Hermione asked, still looking down the wall and pulling free of Ron's grasp as if she'd never heard him.

"A bunch, Hermione," Ron said, trying to sound casual. "You don't need to see them all. You've seen enough."

Ron tried to give Harry a look over Hermione's head that was sufficiently meaningful to gain his help. Of course, Harry had no idea what the problem was, but Ron knew he could always depend on his best friend, no questions asked.

"Er...yeah, Hermione," Harry said uncertainly, drawing his questioning eyes away from Ron's expression. "Let's leave this now. I think we've all had enough for the moment."

Both boys tried to gently yet insistently lead Hermione away.

"But I need to see if they've left any other symbols – other clues," Hermione said, reversing back to face the wall. "What if there's another part to the message now? The pictures go so far, but it's too dark to see them all from here."

Ron didn't think it would work, but this wasn't working either. "Let's go, Hermione. You don't need to see any more. You're just torturing yourself," he said firmly, grabbing her wrist.

Suddenly she looked into both of their faces. "What's going on with you two?" she asked, her demeanor changing instantly.

She didn't wait for an answer. In defiant response to Ron's firm tone and grasp, Hermione pulled her clenched fist up between them, Ron's hand still holding around her wrist. Her eyes flashing, she stared long and hard into his and he knew precisely what she was looking for. He also knew she'd find it. _Damn!_ He could _never_ hide anything from her. Her glare still drilling into him, Ron tried not to anticipate defeat – then he saw Hermione find her prize deep within him and the momentary glint of triumph in her expression.

"You're hiding something from me, aren't you?" she demanded knowingly. "What is it? It was down here, wasn't it?"

She wheeled around, trying to twist her wrist from his grasp; it wasn't easy, but he hung on. "Hermione – leave it – _please!_ You don't want to see it – trust me!"

Snapping her arm forcefully in the air to dislodge his grasp, her glare returned to its target in his eyes. _"I'll_ decide what I should and should not see. Do _not_ treat me like a child!" Tears of fury were welling in her eyes. "You have no right!"

Ron exchanged looks with Harry once more. It was over. There was only so much one could do with Hermione when she was like this, aside from a Full Body Bind.

Studying the drawings as she moved down the wall, it took a few minutes before they heard a half-gasp, half-sob that told them she'd found what Ron had seen. Walking to her side to at least lend support, Ron watched Harry grimace in disgust at the sight on the wall before him. Hermione stood staring and trying to blink back tears.

Among the centaur herd that had been sloppily painted on the wall and interspersed with several more "Yetis kill" symbols was the lone figure of a girl. It was poorly drawn, it was crude, but it was definitely taken from the picture card the Yetis knew her by. The message was unmistakable: "Yetis Kill Hermione. Kill Hermione Good."

Hermione had made no noise after seeing the drawing. She stared blankly and in shock at what was before her, apparently in horror at the meaning it was to portray.

Harry sounded as if he didn't really wish to speak, but pushed himself to try and comfort her nonetheless. "Maybe...Maybe they only painted it in this cave – and these two Yetis obviously aren't going to hurt you, you can see they've already decided against it."

Beginning to shake her head, Hermione swallowed hard to keep her composure but her answer was definite. "No. No. They paint all of them...in all of the caves...even Spyder's. That's how he learned to kill horses. That's why Trey was looking at me so strangely...why he was so worried about letting us in. The word is out. _I'm _one of their targets. I've come to help them and they've been told to..." Another half-sob stopped her brave response when the cold scientific mentality gave way to the burning flood of feelings.

Ron watched her beside him, the tears sliding down her face bathing him in more pain than anything his own wounds could have possibly caused.

"Hey," he said softly, moving a hand to the middle of her back and gently rubbing his fingers back and forth there to comfort her. Ron noticed Harry had moved closer to her on the other side. That's what they did as friends and the way they were – the way it had been for years now. "They know, Hermione. The ones who count know you came to help. And you're safe - for just now, anyway."

"Yeah," Harry said, equally gently. "I think we're all a bit on edge here. Let's go take a break from all of this. I know I could use one."

This time Hermione allowed Ron and Harry to guide her away from the wall, but their calm strength and gentle understanding seemed to have shoved the flood gates wide open. Ron felt her body relax into great heaving sobs and it took both him and Harry to support and lead her across the room to where Starr stood.

Seeing the deep sadness in the Yeti's lovely eyes, Ron couldn't for a moment believe that any of these creatures would possibly follow the orders posted in their homes. Starr seemed to understand that Hermione's tears meant hurt and sadness. As they approached her, the Yeti started to reach out and gently touch the girl, but drew back just before she connected. Starr had no reason to be ashamed of something that had been just as brutally forced on her as it had been on Hermione, but the Yeti acted as if she was saddened that something causing so much pain had happened in her home.

Ron felt a particularly nasty twinge in his brain. He couldn't tell if it was his burn pain returning or their situation or the fact that he had come all this way to save Hermione from being hurt that was hitting him the hardest. He had come to Trapperton to be her hero, after all, and there she was in terrible pain, even if it wasn't physical. How could he have let this happen? _As soon as we can, as soon as we're alone together, as soon as we get a chance and Harry's...otherwise busy..._ Instinctively, he wanted to fold his arms around her and protect her like he had with the fence and tell her he wouldn't let anything hurt her, no matter what kind of monster came and what instructions from what wall the thing intended to follow. But the reality was that they needed to hide somewhere soon, in case Trey came back and changed his mind, or in case handlers returned and charged their way in, or if Spyder decided to make a social call again. How could there never be time at the moment she needed help, when he wanted so desperately to prove he was there for her?

Starr turned and took Hermione, Ron, and Harry to a little rock anteroom at the end of a short, narrow corridor. The space was quite small by Yeti standards; in fact, Starr was too tall to crawl in comfortably and stayed in the main corridor. But the room was somewhat lit and ventilated by a shaft in the rock near the ceiling that led up and out to the open air. The sun could be seen shining brightly through the leaves of green foliage that hid the half-meter opening on the surface from anyone casually passing by. The floor of the room was only soft dirt, but it was much too clear of rocks and debris to have occurred naturally.

"Thank you, Starr," Hermione sniffed, beginning to calm a bit now. She reached up and patted the Yeti's fingertips, wiping her eyes and her face with her other hand. "Thank Trey, too," she said, obviously hoping Starr understood enough of her words to pass the message along in Yeti-speak.

Starr gently touched the top of Hermione's head and stroked her hair briefly, as one might do with a child, then she turned and walked off toward the larger main room.

Ron and Harry led Hermione to an especially well-lit spot opposite the opening in the rock and the three of them sat down on the dirt, their backs against the cool rock wall. None of them said anything for a time, choosing instead to simply sit close to lend support and let Hermione calm herself down.

The sobbing had stopped before Starr left, but the sniffles took a bit longer to subside. Then the three friends slipped into a solemn silence.

"Sorry to be such a baby," Hermione said finally, still wiping at a troublesome eye.

"A baby? You?" Harry said. "Come on, Hermione. We know better than that."

"And even if we didn't, you'd have every right," Ron added. "Anyone would be upset when they find out someone's been told to, uh, do away with them. But you already know _that_ won't be happening- ever – if we're around."

"It's not even just that, though," Hermione said. "I mean, we've faced all sorts of times when we knew we might not survive. Mostly those had to do with V-Voldemort and everyone knows how evil he is. But it's just – how can regular wizards and witches be so cruel – to other creatures – and to one another?"

She sounded on the verge of tears again and Ron reached over to lay his hand on top of the rather damp one in her lap. But he certainly had no answer for her question.

The silence took over again for a few minutes.

"Sorry to have to bring this up – but where do we go from here?" Harry asked.

"Well...we've made it this far into the habitat," Ron started. "We could try and get you to Fred's broom at the very least, Harry—"

"Shut it, Ron," Harry interrupted. "I'm not leaving you two behind – certainly not with Umbridge here and after what we've just found out."

"But Ron's got a point, Harry," Hermione chimed in. "I know we've got no key for the motorbike, but since they've no doubt discovered you're gone by now, _you_ could get out. You could fly to alert the Order and send someone—"

"No," Harry said adamantly.

"But before, you said that we could get one of us out—" Hermione pleaded.

"Yeah, and that was before we knew what we do now about Umbridge – that she's got more than revenge on you – or us- in her plans. If I don't deal with this here, I may have to deal with it on a much larger scale in the years to come. Right now we stand a chance- who knows about then? I won't be going," Harry said stubbornly. "If you want someone out, then you go. Or send Ron. He's hurt."

Ron looked affronted. "Not so hurt any more. And how'd I get into this? You already know where I stand."

Hermione turned to Ron with a pleading look on her face. "Ron, talk some sense into him. We can't let Harry get caught in this – after what we know about the prophecy now - he's too important to the rest of the world."

"Harry..." Ron wanted to back her up and to some extent, he thought she might be right. But he also knew his best male friend well enough to know Harry would only be angry if he was pushed, now that he was dead set on staying and nipping Umbridge's chances of success in the bud. "Harry can make up his own mind."

Obviously frustrated, Hermione turned back to Harry for one last try. "Harry_, please –"_

"Didn't you hear me tell him to shut it, Hermione?" he said in exasperation. "That discussion is _over."_

Ron watched Harry's glare dissolve the hopeful look on Hermione's face.

Hermione had seemed gladly accepting of Ron's hand the few minutes it had been there, but she suddenly stopped clinging to it and pushed him away. _Oh, here it comes..._

Sure enough, her frustration with Harry turned on him... "If only _you_ hadn't dragged him into this, he'd be back at his aunt and uncle's, safe and protected by the Order and Dumbledore..."

"And miserable," Harry added. Suddenly Ron felt much better about the whole thing.

"But what if she –" Hermione closed her eyes in frustration, acting as if she knew any further protests would do no good. That didn't, however, keep her from flashing a nasty scowl at Ron.

The ensuing silence between the three of them gave them too much time to think of what was to come. Ron knew none of them wanted to speak up and say the obvious, but it had to be done.

"Harry's right. We've _got_ to do it now, haven't we?" He wouldn't have to clarify – the three of them understood – perfectly.

Harry sighed. "Yeah, especially now that we know what they intend to do with the Yeti against the Centaurs. And just who they're trying to impress with that."

Hermione made a noise of frustration. "Oh, that _woman!_ You'd think she sat around all day trying to think of mean, evil, sadistic things to do to people and creatures who have no reason to wish her any harm."

"Until _after_ they get to know her methods," Harry said. "I know I'd wish her plenty of harm now."

"Maybe she wasn't totally barking when they sent her to the psych ward in St. Mungo's," Ron offered. "She seemed mad enough in the hospital wing at school, but maybe she just wanted a vacation to rest up and plan her revenge."

"Is there anything we need to do before it gets closer to the food delivery time?" Harry asked, stifling a yawn. "Aside from making sure we stay together, of course – especially now that we know there might be even fewer here on our side. We're right lucky to have a place to hide out until then, really."

"Yeah," Ron agreed. He knew she'd be angry at him for what he was about to say, but..._What the hell? She already is_. "Hermione, I know you don't like it when we tell you what to do. But you're just going to have to put up with us. Before, we thought we stood a better chance out here in the habitat, but now we find out we're as much in enemy territory as we were in camp. No going out of our sight – at any time. Now it's almost like you have a price on your head... You're an endangered species now, too. I mean, you could hardly blame some of the ones with starving Yeti kids and the like for hurting you if they think they might get more food...but things are definitely more dangerous for you too - now."

"Most dangerous for Harry," Hermione groused, then loudly sighed. "This was hardly what I had in mind for a summer internship to study the Yeti."

"When does the Ministry food delivery come in again?" Harry asked.

Hermione held up the wizard watch strapped to her wrist. "Early evening – but I have this. I set it the night I first saw them burning the food – in case I ever got the chance..."

"So how long have we got, do you think?" Harry asked, yawning again.

Studying the watch for a minute, Hermione replied, "Three or four hours, I suppose."

"It's really stuffy in here – I'm really feeling how tired I am," Harry said, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "I think I'll try and find a few hours of that sleep we lost last night. Maybe we all should. We'll need to be able to think fast to pull off Hermione's plan, I'm afraid. Starr will wake us if anything happens, won't she?"

"I'm sure she will – unless something or someone prevents her from it," Hermione said.

In spite of the uncertainly of that statement, Ron watched Harry cross his arms and fold his legs, shifting into as comfortable a position as one could on a dirt floor in a rock room. He leaned into a spot where the rock sank in, then jutted out just a bit. It wasn't long before they could hear him breathing deeply and evenly.

Ron and Hermione looked at one another for a long moment, then both laid their heads back and turned to stare at the wall straight ahead of them.

There just wasn't much more to say. The waiting was always the worst part. Sometimes Ron liked it better when they simply fell into the dangerous situations they'd dealt with over the past years. No anticipation, no worrying how dangerous it could become, no concerns that he was once again going to become much more the problem than the solution... The adrenaline borne of thinking on your feet, dealing with the moment, and putting out whatever fire was in front of you was so much better than this...this...feeling of dread eating away at you ever so slowly. In weariness, Ron finally felt his own eyelids growing heavy and the last thing he remembered was his head falling onto something much softer than he expected from a rock wall.

RR

It wasn't _that_ hot and stuffy. It wasn't even that uncomfortable. If only she could stop all of these _thoughts_ from charging their way through her mind, over and over and over...

Ron had fallen against her shoulder in his sleep, and while she was actually enjoying the warmth and intimacy of him being so relaxed and so close, she didn't like sitting still for so long in one position so as not to awaken him – not to mention he was heavy. She knew he was still putting up with pain in his arms, even after Starr had healed the burns. He held them oddly for Ron, who usually had both long arms askew and in motion at whatever angle suited him that moment. But now he treated them gently, gingerly, held them protectively stretched in his lap – he certainly deserved some rest after what he'd gone through and what they'd be undertaking later on.

_She _wanted to sleep so she could be alert and energetic as well. Like Harry had said, no doubt it would come in handy. But try as she might, even in the silence and with her two favorite companions fast asleep on either side of her, she couldn't do it.

Without looking at her watch, Hermione could tell from the way the light had shifted that time had passed since they'd arrived_. About an hour..._ she thought. A small patch of green-filtered light had fallen across one of Ron's arms and she noticed the green tinge subdued the reddishness left by Starr's healing. But the thought scars were still there – much more faint now, but still visible – a thus-far permanent testament to just how far Ron would go for one of his friends, for _any_ of his friends, or his family. It gave her an odd, yet lovely feeling that she was among those he cared about enough to...sacrifice so much for. _Ron's always acted as if his own pain meant nothing as long as it kept those he loves from having to bear it._ She smiled softly and listened to the words echo through her mind and her heart. _Those he loves..._

She found herself daydreaming about that fondly-remembered early evening at the Burrow when they'd been sharing their scars. Ron had been embarrassed to let her see his. _But how can he not know that the scars mean nothing to me?_ _Nothing on the outside can change what I know and feel about him, as a friend or... whatever we are._ Scars made no more difference to her than the color of his shirt or if he'd combed his hair. He was still Ron inside. She'd felt close to Ron then, too, that night –as close as she felt to him now.

Ron suddenly jumped in his sleep, and to her horror, she realized she'd been gently tracing his forearm with her fingertips as she sat deep in thought, feeling the areas of taut new skin interspersed with the whorls and swirls of the thought scar tissue. Feeling guilty and embarrassed to be caught, she decided to pretend she was asleep herself and knew nothing. But that was before he lifted his head a few inches from her shoulder; his blue eyes blinked open and stared straight, if sleepily, into hers.

"What?" he asked quietly and with what seemed to be great effort.

"What?" she replied, hoping she sounded innocent.

"You all right?" he said, fighting his eyelids for control.

"Yes."

Apparently, he'd awakened enough to notice he'd been sleeping on her shoulder. "Oh, I'm sorry – I'll move if you—"

Hermione smiled a little. "No, you're fine. I don't mind."

He paused, looking perplexed, but then seemed determined to try again. "I mighta been dreaming, but...were you just...touching my arm?"

She tried to look appalled. "No." But he was on to her – she could see it in his face. "Well... maybe a little."

He sat in thought a moment. "Is something wrong?" Suddenly very concerned, he straightened and tried to shake his head to clear it. "Wait. Are they coming? I mean – are they here?"

"What?" she wondered aloud, confused as well until... "Oh! No! Nothing like that. It's just – well – how do your arms feel? Any better?" Hermione inwardly rolled her eyes at herself. How lame was that?

Ron sat there scowling for a moment before he answered, apparently wondering if he was processing everything correctly or if he might still be dreaming. "They still hurt. You – woke me up—to ask me that?"

She winced and ignored the last bit. "A little or a lot?"

Ron half-shrugged. "Haven't got that much to compare to, it's like a bad sunburn -but I'd say quite a lot."

She was worried he'd say that. "Oh... I wish I could get potions ingredients. Then I could make a nice soothing salve that would help. They haven't got much here – even in camp – and it's all under Dr. Voyde's lock and spell."

" 'S all right. I'll live," Ron said. "Not to mention I'm thinking it's a bad idea to head back into camp for potions ingredients." Then he peered at her closely, which wasn't difficult since he'd slumped down near her shoulder again. "Hermione. What is it? You didn't wake me for that. What's _really_ wrong?"

Bugger. How did he do that? How did he _always _know? "Actually, I couldn't sleep because I was thinking."

"Surely that's not a first," Ron said. "You mean about – the picture on the wall?

She looked down at her hands in her lap. "A bit, I suppose. But there's not a right lot we can do about that, now is there? We'll just stick together – and we'll do what needs to be done – and then we'll all leave together when help arrives. Simple. Not much more to think about."

He was looking at her a bit oddly. If she wasn't mistaken, she saw wonder, and empathy, and even a little bit of pride. She wasn't really trying to be brave, just...logical...about it. Yet she already knew that her logic wasn't always the first thing Ron appreciated about her. _I've no clue how to go about this_ _casually_...she thought.

"So...what, then?" he asked especially softly after he looked across her and noticed Harry stirring in his sleep. "Thinking about...our plan?"

Hermione considered. "No. Though maybe I should have been."

She could feel the warmth of his gaze on the side of her face, and she wished she had the courage to tell him and look into his eyes at the same time. But she didn't – not yet. "But I was mostly thinking about the fact that...I never got a chance to tell you I was...grateful. You went and did all that...You saved me."

Ron half-snorted softly. "Then you saved me too. I couldn't get off any spells in that condition right then and you and Harry were ready to go before that big dog came. I reckon we...saved each other."

"But you got hurt for it," Hermione insisted. "And you knew it was probably going to happen – and you did it anyway. When I was younger I... never dreamed anyone would _ever_ do something like that – for me. That felt... really nice." She glanced over to see him blushing even in the dim light.

"Psh. What else was I going to do? Leave you out there for the dogs and those right nasty men to fight over? No, I don't think so," he said, shrugging it off. "It was nothing really."

"It _was_. It was something to _me_." Hermione could feel herself blushing as she took a great breath and swung her gaze level with his. She quickly doubled her legs underneath her and rolled up to face him. _Courage, Hermione._

"Thank you." She leaned over and gently touched her lips to his cheek, pausing a moment, then pulling back, determined to keep looking in his eyes.

Ron's ears went red immediately; he gazed back, looking at once bewildered and thrilled.

"Oh...uh...then I reckon...I should thank _you."_ He haltingly leaned to her side and finally left a warm, lingering, and oh-so-lovely kiss on her cheek as well.

She had tried looking at him after that, but the pressure was too much for the both of them; they quickly looked down. Her heart was pounding, her stomach a writhing mass of fluttering creatures. The tension was perfectly terrible. Hermione had no idea what to do next to fix that, but then Ron took over just before the adrenaline did.

"You know what?" he said quietly, an odd, deep tone to his voice. "I...really didn't mean to do that _that_ time either."

Suddenly the fluttering creatures turned surly and she started to rise onto her knees. "Oh, of all the - don't you _dare_ start with _that _again! What – sleeping some more, were you? Once I find my wand, _I'll_ show you sleeping-"

It halted there. With one deft movement, Ron's right arm was around her, pulling toward him and yanking her off-balance. He caught her with his left as she fell, at once turning her and drawing her closer. The swift movement made her dizzy enough to grab him round the neck, but she had no real desire to stop the spinning - not here, not now, not when she'd just focused and found herself suspended right below the source of that delicious grin. But there was no grin now – only an oddly serious look that made her the slightest bit afraid, yet demanded she pull him closer. Their faces a breath apart, Ron studied her in awe.

His heart pounded into her side and it was wonderful, but she wasn't sure she had room to breathe with the creatures pummeling her ribs. It took what felt like several hours for him to say something, to_ do_ something.

His arms holding her were shaking, his breathing was rapid and shallow, and the first time his lips barely brushed against hers, she could feel them trembling. But the jolt she felt through her body told her one gentle touch wasn't enough. She wanted more, and the instant she wondered if he felt the same, the answer came. His lips on hers came strong and sure this time, warm and demanding, no longer filled with fear and nerves but with love, and with the urgency of someone determined to pour as much pent-up feeling into one kiss as was wizardly possible.

Then after some period where time meant nothing, heaven was gone and she realized he'd lifted his head.

"What I _meant_ to do...was that," Ron said bravely, then was immediately unable to look her in the eyes any longer and began blushing furiously.

She didn't want to move her lips for fear it would erase the feeling, make her forget the luscious physical memory of his mouth on hers. It took her a minute, but she finally breathed out "oh".

"Well, that - and we couldn't have you waking Harry with your complaining about me," he said softly. Teasing he could do. Teasing made them normal and comfortable and pushed them back into that place for friends that they were used to – not that wondrous, yet terrifying place for lovers that they'd just been. He could better deal with the friends place and he swung his gaze and his mischievous grin back on her.

She tried to look a bit irritable at his remark, but under the heat of that smile, there wasn't much chance. "No more complaining. I promise."

"Not dreaming that time, though," Ron said impishly. "You reckon?"

There were no words for how he'd made her feel – perhaps they had both been dreaming. The best she could do was shake her head 'no'.

"Shall... I let you up now?" he asked softly.

Tweaking a ginger curl playfully that she'd found at the nape of his neck, she felt the smile bursting from inside her slowly slip to the surface. Immediately, he returned it, stirring the fluttering creatures from their shock and sending them even more determinedly and deeper into her. As scary as it was to be there with her best friend, she wasn't yet ready to leave that lover's place behind. And as she looked as deep into his eyes as he would allow, she was thrilled to see he was no more ready to leave there than she was.

She shook her head 'no' once more, and with a brilliant lopsided grin and a half-chuckle of delight, Ron pulled her to him and kissed her quite thoroughly again.

Finally, they parted.

"Never said I was _going_ to let you up, but I thought it'd be polite to ask." He smiled shyly.

She noticed his eyes were especially shiny, but she couldn't be sure what from. He very gently lifted her back into a sitting position beside him, but she was worried that maybe she'd done something wrong.

"Oh - are you all right? Did it hurt your arms to hold me up when we – " Too late she realized that she'd started into something she was too embarrassed to finish.

Ron's ears had turned a very deep tone in the semi-light, but he probably would have been happy to know it was hard to tell they were red.

"Er, probably," he said sheepishly. "But I didn't notice."


End file.
